


Second Chance

by GlowwormiK



Series: Thace&Prorok [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Graphic Depictions of Illness, M/M, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Post-War, Prorok's POV, Questionable happy ending, cripple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 33,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowwormiK/pseuds/GlowwormiK
Summary: When Prorok wakes up, taken out of the Ro-Beast, he finds himself severely injured in a world decaphoebs after the war. He will have to live and help Thace, but does he have what it takes to really adapt?Warning: Gloomy beginning, then it gets lighter.
Relationships: Prorok & Thace (Voltron), Prorok (Voltron) & Original Character(s), Prorok/Thace (Voltron)
Series: Thace&Prorok [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1130054
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

It was a regular status update meeting between the paladins of Voltron and what has remained from the Blade of Marmora. A regular one - before Pidge spoke up.

“We have an announcement,” she said and exchanged glances with Hunk. “We have been working on understanding imperial technologies, and it seems that we found something: just yesterday, we successfully folded and unfolded a space pocket. Remember Ulaz? When he tried to save us, he folded space around himself and the Ro-Beast. We think we might be able to reverse the folding.”

“Ulaz!” Shiro exclaimed, making other paladins jump. It was untypical of him to get that emotional - he bent forward towards his camera, eyes shining. “These are amazing news, Pidge! Can you unfold him out of there? Maybe we - but no, too much time has passed!”

“Actually, time gets folded as well.” Hunk interfered. “For Ulaz and for the Ro-Beast, another relative time speed holds - a much slower one. If our calculations are correct, around a tick and a half have passed there - maybe the Ro-Beast still hasn't gotten to Ulaz’s ship. However, the traces that we can get hold on are very faint, we will need all the power of our lions to hold onto them and even then no success is guaranteed. Maybe Atlas…

“You can count on any support, Hunk!”

No one except Keith noticed, but Kolivan seemed uneasy, he turned his head several times and bit his lip.

“Oh, you sure are enthusiastic about it,” Pidge added. “But we don’t know how the folded time will behave once we are done.”

“And we don’t know what awaits us on the other side, if the space will even comply with the rules of physics...”

“And we would need to keep a safe distance, and if everything goes well, then we’ll just need to destroy the Ro-Beast and...”

“No,” Kolivan spoke up. Everyone turned their heads towards him - he usually preferred to keep silent unless there was really a reason to speak, “we need to capture the Ro-Beast and get the pilot out alive… if your plan is to be fulfilled, that is.”

“Why?” Keith frowned. “It is… it used to be Prorok - he was the one who tried to trap Voltron behind the solar barrier, why would we want to keep him alive?”

“Not to mention the cost of it - the Ro-Beast is still a huge danger. Without A….” Lance had to swallow. “I mean without the Blue Lion, without the formed Voltron, we will struggle to beat it as it is. Having to take care of not hurting the pilot might put us in danger. Why would we risk our lives for one of Zarkon’s commanders, Kolivan?”

“The Blade of Marmora needs him alive. If the space is to be unfolded, we are to deliver him to one of our bases where our medics will be able to separate the pilot from the machine.”

“But why?”

“The Blade of Marmora needs him alive.”

“I am also a part of the Blade, Kolivan," Keith noted. "I - we all - deserve to know.”

Kolivan sighed and closed his eyes.

“Fine, if you want to witness it. Paladins, I need to show you something. I did not want to involve you into this, but with the Ro-Beast returning… you will have to come to our base, I am sending you the coordinates as we speak.”

He refused to tell more, so the paladins had no choice but to do as he said. The Blade base Kolivan directed them to was located on an asteroid cloud almost outside the galaxy - a sad pile of cosmic rocks orbiting a cold outer planet, the only child that a dying and expanding star has not yet devoured. The base was located underground - for both security and energy conservation reasons, as Kolivan explained on the way. The paladins strolled along the semi-lit corridors, their steps resonating on the metal floors like they remembered from the imperial times, until the found themselves in front of a low metal door.

“What you will find there is… disturbing,” Kolivan started, fingering with a key - a real, physical one, an alien object in this high-technology environment. Lance and Pidge exchanged glances - the gloomy surroundings, Kolivan's unusual behaviour and complete lack of any living presence apart from them was making them uneasy.

“Let’s get to it, Kolivan.” The key turned with a screech, Kolivan pushed the heavy door.

The first thing that everyone noticed when the door was opened was the disgusting odor - not something certain, like vomit or urine, but a general heavy smell of disease and suffering, plus a pungent medical stench, concentrated almost to a solid state due to lack for ventilation. Their noses reacted right away, but it took a minute for their eyes to adjust. A badly-lit room, and a small shadow, sprained under a blanket in the back, on what might have been medical stretchers several decades ago, under a set of unfamiliar, but menacingly-looking devices.

“This… this is...” Kolivan seemed pained to speak each word, he stumbled and had to start again. “Paladins, most of you did not know him personally. He used to be our agent in the main base back when you first flew your lions. His name was...”

While he was struggling to speak, Keith made a couple steps forward and bent over the stretchers. He looked the sick person in the face and gasped.

“Thace!”


	2. Chapter 2

“Thace! Thace, can you hear me?” Keith repeated, gently touching the sick person’s shoulder, while everyone else exchanged glances, unsure what to do. “Are you awake? What happened to him, Kolivan? Why is he like that? Thace, let me just..”

“Don’t touch him,” Kolivan started, but it was too late.

The person on the bed winced, a spasm hit through his body. He uttered a short piercing cry.

“Thace, what’s wrong? Kolivan, did I...” Keith looked panicked.

The sick person took a short breath and shrieked again, even higher and louder, and this time, the cry did not die out after a tick. He shrieked and shrieked, and his skinny body wiggled under the thin blanket. Kolivan, looking half disgusted, half ashamed, made a couple of steps towards the monitors above the bed, but Keith did not wait for him. He he took the sick person by both shoulders and turned him on his side, facing towards the paladins - and Lance gasped.

Maybe he was called Thace once, maybe he was a Galra and a member of the Blades some time ago, but now resembled a chunk of burned, scarred flesh, torn and wrongly regrown together. The heat - or whatever burnt him - wiped most of the individuality from his features, a big part of his face and neck one single melted scar, one eye completely hidden under the molten flesh, the other one stretched to the side, lower lid turned outside and watering. Scars went down onto his neck and and chest and disappeared under the blanket. His right ear was burnt off completely, leaving only a hole in his skull, and his right cheek had a hole in it, through which the paladins could see a piece of white bone of his upper jaw. Small patches of remaining hair covered parts of his skull, especially on the back, but the majority of it was completely bald. An IV went under his collarbone.

"Hold him," Kolivan barked. "Don't let him..."

Despite being so horribly injured, the sick galra was strong enough to go on screeching, not stopping to even get breath. His body was twitching erratically, his limbs moving without any coordination. He arched as much as his scars would let him and pulled on the IV, so that it started bleeding. Kolivan rushed to hold him, but Keith was standing in his way, so Thace had enough time to kick the blanket off himself, revealing his entire body: his legs were no more, amputated over the knees, and only a stub remained of his right arm, now glued to his body with a terrible scar. His left arm was more or less intact, at least in comparison with horrifying damage done to the rest of his body. Now, its bony fingers were twitching senselessly, clutching and letting go of the bedsheet.

While the paladins were standing there, paralysed with shock, Kolivan turned on the device above the bed. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then a yellowish liquid filled the tube that went into Thace's neck, and the cry died down slowly. The patient stopped wiggling and relaxed in the weird position the last cramp left him. Kolivan moved Keith aside, straightened Thace, readjusted the IV entrance in his shoulder and covered him with his blanket again. Keith looked up, confused.

“Kolivan, you need to tell us what happened. I thought he was dead, after all this time… Who did this to him?”

“Thace is the reason I invited you all here,” Kolivan said reluctantly. “But please, let us talk outside.”

“What about him?” Lance asked. “What if he wakes up?”

“He won’t wake up, the sedative I gave him is a very strong one. Now, please...”

They left the room and gathered in a small communication hub. 

“I am truly sorry you had to witness this, Paladins. I never intended to...”

“Why is one of our brothers here, why are we not taking care of him?” Keith, who had gathered his thought enough in the meantime, snapped. “How can it be that the hero who saved Voltron at the cost of his life is now abandoned in that closet?”

“He… he is not one of our brothers, Keith. This is the secret that I had to keep until now. I used this base to allocate him and kept it off all official maps. I kept him under automated...”

“What do you mean he is not on of our brothers? I owe him my life!”

"You don't know the truth!" Kolivan raised his voice too.

"I am the only one who really knows the truth, I saw him stay behind and protect my escape! He is a hero and should be treated as such!"

With the word "hero", Kolivan swallowed and turned towards the rest of the group.

“He is a traitor, Paladins. He… fraternized… with the commander of the fleet he was supposed to gather intel in.”

Keith closed his mouth with a snap.

“But… the Blade did not have a single traitor in all its years!”

"Yes. For millennia that the Blades of Marmora have fought against Zarkon, not a single one of us turned against our cause. We pride ourselves in our devotion, in not having a single traitor in all these years. Not a single one - apart for Thace. This is my fault, Paladins. He was my protègè - I found him, I recommended to accept him in our ranks. He promised to become a brilliant Blade - there was this adaptability in him, this almost grass-like skill of laying low while remaining firm in his core beliefs. I should have known the risk… Anyway, he received this relocation request from Prorok’s fleet - I should have grown suspicious from the very beginning. But we were overjoyed: it was such a magnificent, one-in-a-thousand decaphoeb opportunity! For millennia, we fought for scraps of data about the higher military, and here Thace would be, walking around the central command like it was his home, all the most sensitive topics at his fingertips! Sure, he was young, but his training was outstanding, and his mind sharp - who could have been a better fit for the role? And it looked fine, I did not suspect anything, not until after the war, when we retrieved the video archives from the Empire."

Kolivan stopped and sighed.

“Anyhow, this was my failure and my fault, so when I found Thace in an abandoned druid facility, in stasis in a tank with dark quintessence, I knew I could not allow this case to sully the image of the Blade. I took it on myself to hide him here, far away from idle visitors. There are robotic medical systems here - they take care of him to some extent, but I also live here when I am not out on one of my missions."

“So this is why you don’t go on missions that much anymore?” Pidge asked. “We thought you just wanted to have some rest.”

There was a silence, then Keith spoke up again.

“But he could not have been a traitor - why would he save me then? I don’t understand, what does the Ro-Beast pilot have to do with anything?”

“You are so dense sometimes, Keith,” Lance rolled his eyes. “He fell in love with this Prorok guy, didn’t he, Kolivan?”

“Don’t call this disgusting affair ‘love’!” Kolivan frowned. “Whatever happened between them - it was pure and undisguised treason, for both. An imperial commander, this lecherous slug, spoilt to the degree of debility by his absolute power - I can understand why he would commit to an affair like this. A fresh thrill, power not just over the life and body of his underling, but over their mind, their honour and self-respect... But Thace, the clear-minded, concentrated Thace, how could he!”

Kolivan’s voice broke, he had to stop to inhale.

“Well, maybe he really liked the guy,” Lance suggested, raising his eyebrows.

“Liked him? You should have seen that corseted pile of vanity and fat! Besides, Thace was Prorok’s personal assistant, he saw all the atrocities his... lover committed in the name of the Empire - I doubt any sympathy could survive that. No, fear was involved, I presume. My assumption is that Prorok found out about his allegiance and forced him to collaborate for fear of revealing us to Zarkon.” 

“We have suicide pills for this case,” Keith said quietly. Shocked, Lance opened his mouth, but Kolivan continued.

“Yes, Thace knew exactly what he had to do, but he chose another way. Maybe he felt he was too young to die? Maybe he thought he could lead his own game? Maybe he missed the luxury of his parents’ home? There is no quintant that I don’t think about it.” Kolivan shook his head. “I don’t know and I don’t want to know. All I need to know is that Prorok had somehow forced or tempted Thace into betraying us, betraying for phoebs, probably most of the time he spent in the fleet. It stands to reason that he had been disclosing most of the Blade’s secrets to his lover, including information about our operations, bases and member lists. He allowed Prorok to lure Voltron into a trap at the Balmera. 

He has been betraying his brothers consistently and fully aware of what he was doing, so now I could not ask any of the remaining ones to help me take care of him. I considered it up to me to cover up the consequences of my wrong recruitment, but if we can get his Commander out, then it is only fair that the one who seduced him takes care of him now that he is sick. I will gladly give him up and try to forget he ever existed.”

“He did save Keith after all,” Lance noted quietly. 

“Yes, it would seem that in his last quintants, he tried to undo the situation he created. This doesn’t make up for what the information he leaked, though. After his lover had been executed, he probably got bitter and tried to take revenge on the Empire by letting Voltron escape the solar barrier. Paladins, now that you’ve heard the story, do you agree that we need to get Prorok out of the Ro-Beast?”

“I refuse to believe Thace was a traitor,” Keith said firmly. “I owe him my life and I will do everything to get Prorok out just to prove that Thace has been innocent all along.”

Shiro looked at him compassionately.

“We all shall help,” he promised. “How did Thace even land with the druids?”

Kolivan shrugged.

“I do not know for sure, but it stands to reason to think that he was captured shortly after the reactor explosion. He interested them enough to heal him and keep him alive. Maybe they interrogated him, or maybe used him to conduct experiments. He doesn’t talk anymore, so we might never know.”

“Kolivan sure takes this personally,” Lance noted when the paladins were walking towards their pods, but no one else commented on it.

Later the same day, when the rest of the paladins has already left the base, Keith again entered Thace’s room, only to find Kolivan there, adjusting something in the controls of the devices.

“What I don’t get is how you found him, Kolivan. A tank with dark quintessence?”

“It was an abandoned druid facility," the Blade leader answered. "I have been visiting their sites after the war and cleaning up as much as I can. Didn’t want to involve you, there were some atrocious things there... His tank was connected to a life-support device, powered by the remainders of the dark quintessence Haggar has gathered. They left him there, I think they forgot about him when escaping one of the rebel assaults. I found him around a decaphoeb and a half ago, he has been here ever since, in the same state."

"And you kept taking care of him, alone, in secret? Why? If you hate him so much, why didn’t you let him die there?"

"He is less bothersome than he seems. Sure, he is tricky to feed and has these hysterical fits when you touch him, but apart from these times, he mostly sleeps under the effect of the sedative. And, I think you should know: during my time of service, I did not bring many new recruits - when I was younger, my seniors always blamed me for being paranoid. Thace was an exception - I believed in him like I never believed in anyone, and I was mistaken like never before. He is my fault and my responsibility.”

Keith looked down on the skinny shadow of a Galra on the bed and bit his lip.

"How are you even so sure that he betrayed us? He was our mole, these situations are so tricky - what if he played his role well?"

“I saw files… recordings, quite a while ago now. After the war was over, we were cleaning up the debris of broken ships around what used to be Zarkon’s base. In their main cruiser, in Prorok's headquarters, we found video surveillance files. Private ones, not to be transferred to the main base. I saw them... together. He was a traitor, Keith." Kolivan sounded weak and tired now. He went quiet for a while. "I missed their affair completely, Keith, that's the problem," he said after a pause. "I had no idea, not even a suspicion until after everything. I mourned him! How could I be so blind? When we last spoke before his transferral, he asked me to not be disturbed during his adjustment period - what if he was unfaithful all along? What if he planned it, planned this in advance? Did I bring a mole into our own ranks? Sometimes I think - of course Prorok could not have chosen him just out of the blue, they must have had a communication that I missed entirely. I should have known - a young man from a rich family, and Prorok, known for his hedonistic ways...”

Keith went over to Kolivan and bent over the bed.

“No, he was our mole,” he said quietly. “I cannot explain it, but I just know. I only met him for a short while, but I am sure that he meant what he did. He believed in Voltron and in the better future for all enslaved species.”

"I should have known what he might do," Kolivan repeated sadly.

Keith looked down an Thace: now, his head was permanently bowed down, his chin glued to his chest just like the stump of his right arm was grown to his side. His bones were obviously broken already after the burns and healed the wrong way, so his limbs had bumps in all the weird places. An adult diaper turned askew on his skeletal body. Kolivan grimaced and covered him with a blanket once again.

"He doesn’t deserve to be here, Keith, his presence discredits the sacrifice of all the faithful members of the Blade. His life is a mockery after Antok’s death! That’s why I am convinced that we need to get Prorok out of the Ro-Beast. Get him out, send them both as far away from here as possible and be done with it."

“I don’t know,” Keith looked at Thace with pity rather than contempt. “Even if it was like you said… he probably repented after his lover was sent off in the Ro-Beast. Isn’t it terrible to understand that your betrayal was in vain? And even if we do get this Prorok out, will he be even willing to take care of Thace? He doesn’t sound like that kind of a person to me...”

“He won’t have much choice,” Kolivan’s eyes flashed green in the semi-darkness. “If he refuses, we shall put him on trial for his crimes and rightfully execute him.”


	3. Chapter 3

There was darkness, rage and pain, and somehow one was another, and they all suffocated Prorok. He tried to fight it off, but his body didn’t belong him; he tried to inhale, but his chest remained empty, lungs burning with lack of oxygen. The Commander opened his dry mouth to cry, but no sound left his throat. He struggled in the cage of his motionless body without any success, slowly losing strength. He silently screamed for help, but none came. If only he could move, just the tiniest bit, he would have surely gotten to whoever trapped him here! Just as the burning in his chest became unbearable and his consciousness started fading, something happened. Light flashed in front of Prorok’s eyes, and with his next frantic attempt to inhale, sweet air flowed into his lungs. Prorok twitched, catching air with his mouth. Inhale, inhale, inhale - he wouldn't have even wasted time exhaling if he could. The last time he breathed like that was after his space suit malfunctioned in the field training and he almost suffocated to death until he got back in the pod. Was he in the academy again? His head hurt mercilessly, he was completely disoriented and still unable to see anything. Did he hear voices?

“The bastard is dying! Stimulation, again! Quiznaking Ro-Beast...”

A sharp wave of pain shot through his body. Sounds merged in a sort of mumbling in his ringing head, they drilled painfully into his teeth and made him want to vomit them out, until they blossomed up like a sunrise on a stranger planet. Colorful specks flowed in front of Prorok’s eyes, and each new surge of colour meant more pain in the head. Unable to fight and out of patience, Prorok moaned and clenched his teeth on something soft in his mouth. Someone shrieked in pain, and this sound started slowly returning Prorok to the reality. Nausea and headache were still tormenting him, but his consciousness was clearing with each tick. He found himself alive, lying on something hard - not a bed, more like a table. His body felt unfamiliar, and he got angry about a strange heavy sack at his side before he realised it was his own left arm. Prorok turned his head - successfully, and bent his legs - also successfully, albeit not without a delay and a weird feeling that he was controlling a puppet rather than his own muscles. Someone shook him at the shoulder, once and twice.

“Prorok! We know you are awake - open your eyes!”

The voice was unfamiliar, with clear commanding tones to it - a Galra, definitely, and one who is used to being listened to. Who could he be? Prorok opened his eyes, blinked several times, squinted in a futile attempt to see better, but without success - everything around him was a mixture of lighter and darker shades. He frantically tried to remember what has happened to him - the Emperor's verdict, a prison cell, Haggar’s labs, then they dragged him towards a huge machine. Then there was the witch’s raised hand and then only darkness, urge for haste and rage - until he found himself here.

“Are you sure he can hear us? He doesn't look particularly conscious,” the same voice asked. Someone else answered, but Prorok couldn’t quite understand what they were saying over the realisation he just made: he was supposed to go hunt Voltron. While unconscious, he must have been captured by the enemy! They have blindfolded and restrained him - not completely though, how lucky. The lack of details about latests event puzzled him, but there was no time to dwell on trifles - Prorok needed to break out as soon as possible. He flexed his fists, gathered all his strength and pushed himself off the surface, attempting to jump up. Alas, It didn’t go as planned - his limbs failed to execute any work, so he only rolled to what seemed like the edge of the table and almost fell down into the void. They grabbed him immediately, of course, several people fell over onto him in an overzealous attempt to stop his escape, impeding each other. If Prorok hadn’t been so weak and clumsy, he could have fought all of them at once.

“Of course he can hear us,” another, alien, voice said, high-pitched and oozing with mockery. “Hey Prorok, buddy, where do you think you are going?”

They rolled him back to the middle of the table, dragged him higher by the collar like a sack with dirt, and someone helped him raise himself up to sit. Then they gave him a rubber drinking sack with warm stale water - an old ration, most certainly. For thirsty Prorok, it tasted better than the most expensive rum ever had. While being moved around, Prorok noticed something on his head, like suction cups and wires hanging from them and touching his face. Why would they want to track his brain activity?

“It is 'Your Commanding Excellency, Prorok, Sir' for you, rebel scum,” Prorok squeezed out after he had finished his water. The wave of nausea after the movement lessened and he regained his breath. “I demand to know where I am and what you did to my body.”

They laughed, all of them - Prorok understood it the next second the words slipped off his tongue. It was a mistake boasting like that, the biggest title is but a joke without a laser canon and a healthy fist to support it. Still, now Prorok knew that there were at least four or five people in the room.

"Well, he definitely doesn't suffer from memory loss!"

“Silence,” the first voice again, and this one was not laughing. “You find yourself among the members of the Blade of Marmora and you are our prisoner, so take care to address us with more respect. You and the likes of you have been stripped of your rank and titles, and you can demand nothing - imperial minions should be thankful that we even spared their lives.”

Empire - this thought woke up a bitter feeling. How could the Emperor discard him so mercilessly? Who was the traitor? He shook the thought off - no time for it right now. He had started agressively - now he had no choice but to press on.

“Minion? More like a maxion. I am Prorok, Commander of an imperial fleet, and you will pay dearly for opposing us. We shall make you regret ever raising your heads against Emperor Zarkon and his army! Now undo whatever you did to my eyes and face me like a Galra - if you even are one.”

They laughed again.

“Your emperor is dead!” the commanding voice was triumphant now. “Your empire had collapsed like a sandcastle shortly afterwards. Your fleet is annihilated, your army disbanded and criminals like you put on trial for their deeds. We spared your miserable life because you can be useful - but don’t make a mistake assuming that you are needed in our world.”

What is he talking about? Is this some sort of test for his loyalty? Do they think he is an idiot to oversee such blatant provocations?

“Pardon my humble question,” Prorok sneered. “Would you care to inform me how you managed to achieve all these fascinating changes in the couple of vargas - or quintants - that I was unconscious? Choose your lies better: the Emperor is immortal - every cub knows that.”

“You have been caught in a time anomaly,” a third voice answered: an alien, he spoke quietly, almost softly, but Prorok heard an iron will behind the humble facade. “You have been unconscious for nine decaphoebs. And Zarkon turned out to be very much mortal - just like the rest of us.”

Prorok choked on his next words - decaphoebs? Nine decaphoebs? How is this even possible?

“You will listen to what I say carefully, because I won’t repeat. We only spared your life because you will take care of Thace.“

Thace! They captured Thace as well? Did he go after Prorok, trying to save him, and got caught, too?

“What have you done to him?!” Prorok snarled, so anxious that he forgot about secrecy of their relationship. “If you as much as touched a hair, I swear I’ll take time to torture each of you until you forget what you are!”

He even managed to push himself forward off whatever he was leaning on.

“So it is really true...” the commanding Galra stalled for a second, swallowed, but continued in the same mocking voice. “Don't worry, your lover is alive, albeit injured. Now get up, we have wasted enough time and resources….”

"No, it's too early, I haven't…." someone else started, but the soft-spoken alien interrupted both.

“No, Kolivan, Ulaz, wait. We need to explain him what happened properly. Prorok, my name is Shiro, I was the Black Paladin when you were hunting us. After your fleet had lost the battle with Voltron, Haggar put you inside a Ro-Beast, a machine merged with its captive pilot with help of dark quintessence - I am not sure if you remember anything from being inside?”

Prorok shook his head. The alleged Black Paladin explained the the Ro-Beast with Prorok inside almost fullfilled its purpose, if it hadn't been for a certain Ulaz who trapped himself and Prorok in a time stasis.

“The Voltron coalition and the Blade of Marmora,” the first one, Kolivan, continued, “have reunited most of the non-Galran planets and have successfully destroyed the empire. We had help from Thace, who saved the Red Paladin at the cost of his health. Prince Lotor killed his father. Sadly, we lost Princess Allura in attempt to undo the damage that witch Haggar inflicted upon all realities…”

Haggar, realities - this all did not interest Prorok in the least. They dare accuse Thace of treason! They imply… Prorok stopped listening. A wave of rage ringed in ears, sending strength into his limp muscle. His vision cleared, shadows sharpened as if someone adjusted a lens in a camera - there were two earthlings in the room, one with all white hair and narrow eyes, the other one tall and brown; and two galra: one thin and light-furred, another tall and massive, clothed in all black and wearing a long, thin white braid on his shoulder. Prorok did not need to be explained which one was Kolivan. Amazed at his own sudden fitness but too angry to dwell on it, Prorok leapt forward and off the table. The wires got pulled out of the cap on his head with a crack. The enemies did not expect and attack, so Prorok swung his fist, but delivering a blow was already too much. Three pairs of hands grabbed him at once, he elbowed someone, someone hit him in the ear - quite skillfully, actually, his head seemed to explode. Desoriented with pain, Prorok attempted to kick, but the weakness was back, so his foot only slid down someone’s leg. His vision was quickly blurring back as he watched Kolivan tower in front of him. The nausea overflowed him again.

“Don’t you dare sully his name, you bastard… he is… he...”

“You told me he was unable to move properly,” Kolivan told Ulaz coldly as they dragged Prorok back onto the table. “What is this all of sudden?

“I really don’t know,” the light-furred Galra answered, reattaching the wires to Prorok’s head. “Wait… What was that? Look at his readings - for a tick, they were perfect! Look here - you see this line smooth out? This is what a healthy person's neural connectivity would look like. Now it is jumping again, though… Guess I need to run some more checks on him. I could have sworn that he is hardly able to move just a dobosh ago. Listen Prorok, I have no idea how you jumped right now, but you are feeling weak now, aren’t you? This is not because your body is damaged - you are perfectly fine physically. The Ro-Beast has been wired right into your brain and while we were trying to separate you and it, you started dying. We had to rush it and we might have severed something. Feel the back of your head - do you sense the metal plate? Yes, here - this was the hole where the cables went into. I can try to adjust your vision and do something about your muscle, but I’ll need you to cooperate. Will you just stay quiet for now and do what I say?”

Even if Prorok wanted, he was in no condition to fight right now, so he just nodded, trapped between helplessness and anger.

“Let us get him back in the neural activity scanner, guys.”

The next half a varga was torturous to say the least. Ulaz connected Prorok to the machine and was gradually changing something in the settings, so that every shift caused an avalanche of pain in Prorok’s poor head. He barely kept himself from moaning, and he had to answer their questions if he could see better or felt something new! As if there was one “better” among the weird variants: one setting and he would suddenly saw everything in red tones, another - the shades, still unclear, would become contrasty to the extent that he wanted to vomit. Finally, they found the position where Prorok could make out colours clearly and see best if he brought the object really close to his face.

“I don’t think it is getting any better anymore,” Ulaz said, before letting him out of the machine. “At this point, we’ll just be torturing him in vain. Get up.” 

He did manage to get up on his feet, but he immediately lost balance and had to wave his hands frantically until the grabbed someone’s shoulder - Ulaz’s, by the skinny feeling of it. His knees were shaking, and it felt like he was standing in extreme wind that blew him from one side to the other. Every limb felt heavy and disgustingly soft at the same time.

“Now as to why you are here,” Kolivan repeated. “Thace…”

“You can’t be serious, Kolivan!” Ulaz objected. “He needs lots of rest before he will be in any condition to deal with Thace. First, he needs a good sleep, then we’ll test his muscle responses and maybe adjust the settings once again...”

“And then maybe we’ll feed him juniberry honey and crackers? I won’t provide him with more comfort than he deserves.”

“I don’t need rest,” Prorok finally managed to stand on his own. “I demand to see my officer this instance.”

“Your _officer_ , sure,” the second earthling sneered, and Prorok felt his face burn. How could he be so stupid and disclose everything in front of these rebels?

“And I also demand a communication channel to the Empire to discuss the conditions of my exchange.”

“We told you, there no empire anymore. As for Thace, he has been badly injured. It will be your job to take care of him and see that he doesn’t need anything. If you fail at it, we will execute you. Is that clear?”

“We’ll see who executes who,” Prorok murmured under his nose, quietly not to get in trouble for excessive effrontery, but still clear enough for them to hear it.

The way to where they kept Thace was an endless torture of weakness and dependency. Prorok’s knees shook and threatened to give in every dobosh, so Ulaz and Shiro took turns supporting him.

“Are you sure you are up to it?” Ulaz asked into his ear.

“Just lead the way,” Prorok hissed.

He was immensely relieved when the journey was finished and they pushed him inside a the small smelly room. He turned his semi-blind head to and fro, trying to make out at least some details, but he couldn’t. There was a dark shadow in the back, so he made an insecure step towards it.

“Thace? Are you there?” he asked, but no answer came.

“He is sleeping now,” Ulaz said. “Here, let me show you. The bed is here - you should be able to see it. Here, give me your hand, two steps more. Be careful for the IV and the monitor cables. Yep, that’s him. He is under a sedative right now, so he is sleeping.”

Prorok bent down as low as he could to look into Thace’s face, his knees still shaking, and couldn’t help a yelp. A burnt, disfigured mask looked back at him instead of the beloved face. Skewed featured, scarred skin shining unhealthily, all just a single burn, drool escaping the corner of the mouth and running down onto the collar.

“What have you done to him, you monsters!” Prorok exclaimed, recoiling in horror. Frantically, he ran his hand down Thace’s body and felt sharp angles where they were not supposed to be, badly remodelled bones, just barely covered by emaciated flesh. ”What are you, torturing him like that?”

“This was not us!” The Black Paladin's voice was all disdain. “Thace was badly burnt during his last mission, he had to explode a core reactor of the battlestation to save Keith. He almost died, but the druids seemed to have found him and tortured him into insanity. We found him in an abandoned base and did our best to help him regain his health - we weren’t particularly effective, though. Since he worked for you, it makes sense that now you do the same.”

“Your bed is in that corner,” Ulaz was back. “Now let me show you what the devices do.”

Ulaz explained Prorok the functioning of all the medical devices in the room, making sure that Prorok looked at each of them really close to make out all details. The ex-Commander was so overwrought, though, that he hardly remembered any of it later. His head was hurting more and more with each dobosh, his hands shook and he wished nothing more than to be left alone with Thace. Finally, they did leave, and the first thing Prorok did was hastily and clumsily fall down at the corner of Thace’s bed, giving rest to his shaking legs.

“Thacey,” he called quietly. “It is me, Prorok, you can talk to me. How are you feeling? What did they do to you?”

Thace did not answer, he lay as quietly as before. Prorok pulled himself on his left sideburn: his facial fur was hanging askew without fur wax to keep it rigid where needed. Drooping sideburns always made Prorok's face look older, so he would carry a box of wax around, but now there was none. For some reason, not looking presntable bothered Prorok almost as much as being among enemies and who knows in what timeline.

“Thace, wake up,” Prorok whispered, bending down so low that his nose was almost touching Thace’s disfigured cheek. The sideburn also moved around and stuck into Prorok's mouth, so he had to spit it out to go on talking. “Move your finger if you can hear me. Are you there?”

No reaction: probably, the sedative Ulaz has been speaking of was really working. Prorok pulled the sideburn again, flattened in against his cheek to keep it in place and felt Thace’s face and chest. It was as he feared - Thace has been salivating through the hole in his cheek, so that his pillow and collar were all wet.

“They really don’t take proper care of you, do they?” Prorok grunted, getting up. He felt too weak to do much, so he just put a dry pillowcase on top of Thace’s pillow, wrapped his neck with a dry towel and turned his head left, so that the cheek hole was facing up. Then he got to the bed that was declared his and fell asleep almost before his head touched the pillow. A single thought touched his mind before he blanked out: Kolivan and Ulaz, the only two Galra who seem to care about Thace - what are they to him?

He woke up on his stomach, with his head tilted to the side uncomfortably, feeling sick and even more tired than before. He called Thace, but got no reaction, so he did not rush to him and turned on his back instead: time to recap what he had to work with. First, he moved his hand in front of his eyes back and forth to test his vision. At times, the hand would just blur without a reason. Same unpredictability with muscles - his arm felt unbearably heavy one second and almost healthy the other.

“Nurser,” he murmured angrily. “Quiznaking person to depend on. Can’t move my own limbs properly.”

He re-played previous conversation with Kolivan and Paladins in his head tick by tick, remembering each word and voice expression in search for lies and found nothing. Kolivan sounded suspiciously hysterical in his hatred, and Ulaz was a little too friendly for someone who nearly escaped death from Prorok’s hands, but he never knew any of them and could make no conclusions. It did seem weird how Prorok managed to never hear Kolivan’t name - the older Galra seemed like an important person for the others. Prorok sat on his bed and tried to stretch and lift his legs - his body reacted with violent shaking upon any stronger tension. Well, the forceful escape scenario was not an option, at least for now. Whatever happened to him on the table and allowed him to see and move freely, it did not repeat itself. A minor setback, really - Prorok was going to rely on his brains to escape anyway.

Prorok got up, crossed the room and bent over Thace - his lover was so strongly sedated that he lay in the same position Prorok left him. The ex-Commander decided it was enough with the drug. It was time to wake Thace up and talk to him _._ Prorok went over to the devices and examined them again, this time without haste: a pretty standard set, lots of them looked like what Ellik would order. Prorok found the wheel and turned it back, stopping the flow of the liquid. While he was waiting for Thace to wake up, Prorok felt his own body - he found no injuries, but last time he remembered, he was wearing the remains of his uniform. Chest insignia were torn off immediately after the sentence, but still they were his own high-quality and flattering bodysuit and jacket. Now, they clothed him in rags: pants and a shirt, too thin to hold form on his stomach and soft enough to stretch on his thighs. The purely synthetic cloth stuck to his body in a way that made tactile-sensitive Prorok writhe. With disgust, he thought that he looked like a fat old woman with droopy sideburns. Bad clothes only emphasized how humiliated, sick, lonely and helpless he felt. As if to add to his misery, he felt a physiological need surface insistently. He roamed around the room but found no bathroom door. No door except the entrance at all, so he pressed the handle and exited. 

The corridor greeted him with a surge of cool, overly dry conditioned air. Aha, Prorok thought, air circulation is artificial: we are either in space, deep underground, or on a planet with toxic atmosphere. The base is old: this metallic smell comes from an outdated generations of filters, and it is understaffed: the air is dusty, filters must be turned on the lowest setting. He wandered forward without really choosing his way, keeping his hand on the wall for security. The corridor ended with another door, then Prorok turned right, pushed another door - some empty room, next one - same, next one… When Prorok finally found a bathroom, he was ready to bite off the head of the architect who built the stupid base.

The ex-Commander returned to Thace as soon as he could, but only to find him still sleeping - the drug must have been a really strong one. He folded the blanket that Thace kicked off himself and felt Thace’s body again, more careful thi time. Leg stumps and only one arm - cold sweat rushed along Prorok’s spine at the thought about why such amputations might have been necessary. Several ribs broken and re-grown with bumps - who treated him, a mad puppeteer? The spine… probably broken, too, how did he even survive? And come to think of it, how did he survive the burns? Whole body damaged, hardly an untouched place - no one can overcome that! If not the pain, the toxic shock should have finished Thace off. There was just one substance that could do miracle salvations - dark quintessence. Could it be?... Prorok felt Thace’s face again, and his patient moved under his fingers. 

“Thacey, you are awake!” Prorok exclaimed. “It is me, Prorok! Can you hear me?”

Thace tilted his head left and right, swallowed forcefully. To Prorok’s horror, he then inhaled and uttered a piercing shriek.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, it’s just me,” Prorok murmured in panic. “It’s me, it’s just me, what’s wrong with you? Thace, it is me, Prorok, stop shouting!”

Thace didn’t stop: on the contrary, hearing Prorok’s voice made his shrieking go a couple levels higher. He wiggled, weakly but desperately, and Prorok let him go.

“You don’t want me touching you?”

Thace kept shrieking and wiggling, his diaper that was too big for his body, turned askew on him. 

“Thacey, stop it, what are you doing?” Prorok tried to hold Thace back from moving too much and hurting his scars, but his hands shook so much that he could hardly control them. His clumsy attempts to restrain did more damage than good, only causing his lover to protest more desperately. Something wet and warm touched Prorok’s knee, and an acrid smell of urine explained what happened. The useless diaper did not catch the load, now the bed sheets were all wet, as well as the blanket and Prorok’s pants.

“Ew, what… oh Thace, you poor thing, you are really unconscious, aren’t you?”

Prorok tried to turn Thace onto the side to change him, but his patient resisted and stopped shrieking only to catch his breath. The ex-Commander’s hands slipped, numerous wires impeded his movements, he hardly managed to pull the diaper off and started cursing under his breath. There could not have been a worse moment for the door to open.

“Prorok, I heard you went outside… What is happening?” Luckily, it was just Ulaz and not someone more venomous.

“What does it look like? Trying to figure out how to deal with a diaper three times the size of the patient!”

“Uh, oh dear, you both need cleaning. Here, let me: do you see this control panel? This used to be medical stretchers, they have built-in help functions to clean. You push this, you see, now clean diapers are stored here, and then… yes, like that. See, you didn’t even need to do much.”

“If only someone had explained it to me beforehand,” Prorok sighed. “Do you have a spare pair of pants?”

“Actually, I did explain it - you must've forgotten. Let us turn the sedative back on… Right, come with me, I’ll also show you where the kitchen is.”

“Thace doesn’t like being touched,” Ulaz said after they were done changing clothes and arrived into the kitchen. “I know this, because I was taken out of the space-time pocket earlier and spent two quintants looking after him. I am a medic by my primary education, so Thace and I spent time together and whatever has been done to him, he is now… well, not entirely himself."

"Well, that's a polite underestimation to describe someone completely unconscious," Prorok snorted. 

"You should be careful when changing and feeding him, or you'll provoke a fit. When he wiggles, he tears his scars and the IV port open, bleeds, so, naturally, infections... you need to avoid this at all costs. Also don't let him cry for too long, or he'll get seizures. But definitely try to diminish the amount of sedative that he is being given - I haven't told this to Kolivan, but it is toxic for his liver and kidneys." 

“Wait,” Prorok asked venomously. “So I am not supposed to let him scream, because he might hurt himself, but I also cannot use the only reliable method of calming him down, because it will also hurt him?”

“No one said your task will be easy,” Ulaz said coldly. "After all, you are not being put on trial for your crimes - consider this a gift from us. Look, here are the supplies - canned and dried foods, grains. Here are vitamin supplements, try giving him some, he is really weakened, they’ll do him good.”

“Do you have dried vegetables, too? And, by the way, I wish you would put me on an open trial - I have no problem speaking for myself.”

“You don’t need vegetables, Thace can’t chew. Make him a smoothie, bottles are in the upper drawer... Sure, you would have no problem speaking your lies openly. You could call snow black and someone would believe. ”

“Yes, I am that convincing,” Prorok said smugly. “Where is the blender? Are you frightened, noble Blade Ulaz? Afraid that the Evil Commander Prorok will infiltrate your poor head?”

“Better Galra than you have tried.”

They went silent while Prorok filled the blender with ingredients and waited for them to shake properly.

”Is what they told me about the Empire true?” he asked after the the device was done screeching. 

“Yes. The empire collapsed after Lotor has killed his father.”

“Lotor?” Prorok exclaimed. “This no-good whimp? What could he have done?”

Ulaz sighed and filled Prorok in on the event of the last decaphoebs as much as he could. 

“So you haven’t actually seen Thace being captured? All we can rely on are Kolivan’s words?”

“Kolivan doesn’t lie, Prorok. We know for a fact that Thace managed to somehow survive the exploding reactor and was found by the druids… Oh, you mean - lie about Thace being a Blade? No, of course he is one of us! I knew him before, saw him many times in our meetings. Anyway, Kolivan blames him of double treason - messing with you and giving away, albeit unwillingly, the information about our secret locations. This is why he might appear stern to both of you, but it is really understandable once you think about it.”

“What in the seven hells was Thace supposed to do?” Prorok snapped. “You people left him alone in the heart of enemy's command without proper support, let him be captured - what should he have done?”

“Died properly,” Ulaz answered quietly. “Not left traces that lead to his capture.”

“Well, if exploding with a reactor is not a reliable was to die, then I don't know what is!”

Ulaz sighed.

“Everyone is angry at Thace for being with you, but I actually think that him doing the right thing despite everything was even braver than just doing it without caring for someone on the Empire's side” His confidence of Thace's alleged treason stung Prorok, so his hand shook and he almost poured a blob of the blended mass onto the table. “It takes a special kind of heroism to not just put your own interests aside when your duty demands it, but also the interests of dear ones…”

“He did not put my interests aside!” Prorok hissed. “It is a lie! Traitors like Kolivan will not convince me with their miserable fabrications!”

“It is not a lie,” Ulaz said with softness that only enraged Prorok more. “Thace was a Blade many years before he was transferred to your fleet, we knew each other, he…”

“I have heard enough of you,” Prorok’s voice came out choked with anger. “I have the smoothie and don’t see any necessity in prolonging this conversation any further.”


	4. Chapter 4

Prorok spent next quintants without trying to escape, only taking care of Thace. Not that is was such a difficult task on its own - but after a relatively short time, he already felt like an exhausted slave in diamond mines. An endless cycle of pouring various liquids into his patient and then wiping them from the other end of his body would begin in early morning and hold Prorok in its clutches until late evening. In the evening, he would fall onto the bed, exhausted and wishing nothing but to sleep for several hours in peace. But what sleep? He had to monitor his patient, day and night, his whole life now was being alert and ready for a complication. The ex-lieutenant liked dropping blood pressure in the middle of the night, so the machinery would explode in hysterical beeping. Prorok would jump up right out of deep sleep, desoriented, shivering, trying to figure something out quickly, before his patient passes away. And when in the early morning Thace would finally fall asleep, almost as pale as the bedsheets he was lying on, Prorok would be too overwrought and too out of his day-night schedule to sleep. He would lay in his bed for half a varga, staring senselessly in the ceiling, then get up again and try to do something for the household, dropping things and cutting his fingers in the kitchen. He wanted to think his situation over, but his head would simply refuse to work. Tiny pieces of thoughts would pester him but never form into proper plans - he needed to do reconnaissance, he needed to look deeper into why Kolivan hates him and Thace so much, he needed to find out what happened to the rest of his fleet, he needed to talk to someone about Thace’s flaking skin...

Prorok spent vargas in front of IV screens, squinting and trying to figure out optimal values that would balance nutrition, calmness and autonomy for his patient. It was a dangerous game - too much antibiotics for Thace’s constantly low-key inflamed lungs, and he gets an upset stomach; too much sedative - and he is too weak to eat. Quintants after quintants blended into a single hazy, sticky mist in Prorok’s mind, a foggy cocktail of screaming, urine, vomit and lack of sleep. Prorok had no idea how Kolivan could just entrust Thace to machinery and leave to do his own thing, when he barely found time to take a shower. His patient’s severe illness and his own lack of any experience taking care of a sick person formed a devil’s circle that inexorably sucked him down the spiral of exhaustion, anger and desperation. Constant tension left him with no energy for appearance, so very soon, he used medical scissors to chop off his beloved sideburns and started wearing an apron all day long. Who cares - Kolivan was the only one who inhabited the base except for them and the mechanical helpers.

Ulaz sometimes appeared to help him, sure, but mostly with short tips over the communicator, as he hurried to enjoy the peaceful life free of obligations and full of interactions with the Black Paladin. 

"Sure," murmured Prorok angrily while rubbing Thace’s limbs when he got cramps. "Roaming around with the _dear Shi-i-ro_ is surely more interesting than sitting here and helping your so-called brother. Especially because he doesn't screech."

Oh yes, the screeching. It became Prorok's worst nightmare. Without the sedative, Thace cried non-stop from slightest inconvenience, and seizures Ulaz spoke of became a daily problem. Prorok has tried everything - talking and staying completely silent, sitting next to Thace and trying to disappear from his hearing range, shaking the bed like a crib, swaddling him with a blanket and removing the said blanket entirely, ventilating and shutting out every draft, heating and cooling, singing bedtime songs... Nothing worked - once Thace would start screeching, only the sedative or a seizure could knock him out. And so, Prorok kept turning the wheel and watching the damned toxic liquid flowing into his patient’s body again and again.


	5. Chapter 5

By the beginning of the next diurnal cycle, Prorok found the control room again.

“I demand that Thace would be placed in a healing pod,” he said.

“Do you think we didn’t try that already?” Kolivan sighed. “They don't work for him, only make his state worse. Last time we put him there, he almost died - and I mean it.”

“I don’t believe it, healing pods help everyone. Try it again.”

“I am not putting him through it again just to accommodate your whims, you moron. Leave me alone and return to your duties.”

Well, Prorok could get rude, too.

“You stuck-up bastard let him weaken into the state he is now in - now get your ass up and find a quiznaking healing pod like I am telling you to!”

“You accuse me...”

“Yes, I accuse you!” Prorok snarled. “He has bed sores - how was he supposed to get them in a quintessence tank, eh? Why is his stomach not working, Kolivan, who has been feeding him intravenously to spare the hustle with making proper food? Who hasn't been treating his sore eye, why do I have to deal with his conjunctivitis? You found my officer somewhere, brought him here, and failed to take proper care of him! Slandered his good name while he is unable to deny your lies, and now you sabotage his recovery to cover up for your schemes?”

At the beginning of Prorok’s little speech, Kolivan straightened himself in anger, but the last sentence made him turn away again.

“You can choose to think he was ever truly your officer if you want to - I don’t care what you think. Leave immediately.”

Fighting was unwise while Prorok was so weak, but after Kolivan’s words about Thace not being his officer, he felt he had nothing to lose.

“Good luck hiding your inability to explain! Thace’s exceptional service has been noticed not just by me and I am not leaving until he is put into a healing pod. If your ragtag troupe had any conscience, you would...”

Kolivan inhaled with a hiss.

“An imperial mass-murderer is going to talk to me about conscience? That is indeed amusing.”

The distinctions between light and shadow became clearer in front of Prorok’s eyes.

“Better an imperial murderer than an altean footrug! Thace would have never agreed to lick their soles like you did - what kind of Galra grovels like that!”

In one step, Kolivan reached Prorok, grabbed and shook him - he was extremely agile for his huge size.

“Thace was a Blade!” he barked. “That is an oath for life! I sent him on a mission into your fleet personally. I don’t know what he was thinking, mingling with you, but don’t - don’t ever! - think he could have been faithful to your ideologies!”

Prorok laughted outright.

“I know exactly what he thought when he was mingling with me! He thought how much we could achieve together! How to arrange our shifts to leave us more time together! What I would prefer for dinner! He did his best to benefit my fleet - and me personally!”

“He was being a good double-agent!”

Prorok heard desperation in Kolivan’s voice, and it made him even happier.

“Right, he double-agented especially well in the bedroom - did you council him on that? No? You had no idea? Of course you didn’t, I knew where he was by tick and listened in on his every communication. Face it, Kolivan - he was faithful to me and to the Empire! Whatever he told you was only to cover up for me."

"He had finished countless missions for the Blade before you! He opened the solar barrier for Voltron to escape!"

"He did not open anything! There were technicians! Servants! Prisoners! The base was full of Galra and aliens who could have done it! The witch and her druids only accused him because they knew he was dangerous to their treacherous game against His Majesty! You may have approached him at some point, but he never truly adopted your ideas. He was mine - my boy! And a soldier of the Empire!"

At his last words, Kolivan's face twisted as if from physical pain, he let Prorok free. Triumphant, panting with excitement, the ex-Commander smiled at him. 

"You miserable rebels..." he started.

"You are the miserable one," Kolivan said very quietly and very clearly. "Your 'boy' had sworn his allegiance to the Blade of Marmora years before you two met. He has been lying to you from the first to the last quintant - you know it even though you wouldn't admit it. You are only clinging so frantically on the idea of his innocence because in your luxurious commanding life there has not been a single soul to love you, except an enemy agent you accidentally managed to seduce. You ruined your body and your mind fighting for your emperor - we found your spinal injury, good job hiding it. You shaped your whole personality around being a better servant to Zarkon, and for what? He executed you without a trial, disposed of you like garbage on a single whim of his lady. Because this is what you were to Zarkon and Haggar - expendable living garbage. Just like aliens were to you."

He turned on his heels and left without saying a single word. Prorok had to lean on the wall - his knees gave in.


	6. Chapter 6

Prorok returned to their tiny room lightheaded with humiliation, his mind bursting with all the belated contradictions he could have told Kolivan. In his habit of obeying Zarkon, he never questioned his actions, not even after he was thrown into the prison cell. He was used to blaming Haggar, himself, anyone but the infallible Emperor. Kolivan's words, cruel as they were, hit the sore truth - Prorok’s entire life was becoming an even better soldier of his Majesty, but his imminent death ín the Ro-Beast was also Zarkon's decision alone. Didn't Prorok serve long and faithfully enough to deserve even a simple trial and a chance to speak for himself? Even just watching the surveillance cameras would be sufficient to find the true culprit! No, Zarkon preferred to get rid of him entirely… why? Prorok remembered how the vain Emperor didn’t let him send his fleet after Voltron while it was still weak, with inexperienced Paladins, and how this short-sighted decision complicated everything later. His merciless fits of rage that always ended with someone suffering unjustly. His utter indifference to deaths of his underlings - even the most trusted and heroic ones. Haggar and her whispers. Dead Nei-Kari. A swarm of unprotected jets sent against Voltron - and how they exploded in the ray the robot produced, their pilots dying like flies. 

“Damn that toxic Kolivan,” Prorok told Thace. “I fought for His Majesty all my life, and look at me - I am starting to doubt him after a single tiny complication. The Blade probably lies, he is just really skilled at it, just like… just like me. What is he lying about? Same things I… exaggerated? I don’t know anymore! And you, Kolivan is right - I do know that you lied to me. I thought it was because of your reclusive nature, because you couldn’t start trusting me after Etor. But were you really just a spy? Maybe you really never loved me?”

Thace lay there, quiet as usual. Sometimes he was so quiet that Prorok would think that he died and panic shortly, but then he felt a shaky breath on his palm. He remembered the same shaky breath from another time - when Prorok was writing his speech and read a part of it aloud to Thace. His lover’s face twitched so painfully at the hail for the Emperor, just like Kolivan’s today - it was the day when Prorok’s heart first grew cold with more than a mere suspicion. Or maybe it was not the first time? His weird empathy towards aliens, the “uncle in special forces”, his knowledge of altean flora… No friends, no contact to the family - isn’t that suspicious? Well, of course not, if you knew anything about his parents!

“Answer me,” Prorok pleaded in a mad hope that his lover would magically start talking. “Wake up! Please wake up and say that it is all just lies! You are an educated, curious man, like Ellik said, of course you would have had doubts! Only mindless yappers like me follow without questioning - you were thinking, and you were discussing it with someone you trusted. You trusted me, right? Please say that you changed loyalties and served the Empire! Please, Thace, tell me it wasn’t all just a mirage produced by my own lust! I need you so much right now...”

Unknowingly, Prorok started patting Thace on the head, like a cat. 

“Right, let us assume they did send you to spy - but you didn’t do it, did you? There was no way you did - me and Thag watched you like hawks! I know for a fact that you were faithful, at least at the beginning. When could it happen that you started betraying me? You could not know when I would lift the surveilance, so... Was it when Voltron came? When I had too much on my hands? Did you really stab me in the back?”

As if negating his question, Thace whined shortly and tilted his head from one side to another. Prorok knew that is was just an unconscious reaction, but his heart still jumped with joy. He pushed his hand under his lover’s skinny back and pulled him into a hug.

“No, of course you didn’t,” he giggled, pressing his forehead to Thace’s temple. “Of course you couldn’t, you absolute candy bar! Of course it is just old bitter Kolivan with his stupid lies!” 

Prorok squeezed and nuzzled Thace. Of course he knew that his lover wasn’t really answering anything, but in his desperation, he was happy to take anything as a positive sign. Behind the door there were enemies and dangers, but this here was Thace, his friend, no matter what Kolivan said. This was his Thacey, his sweet boy, the only one he could be really sincere with. The ex-Commander kept clutching him, swinging to and fro, murmuring some reassuring nonsense in his ear… 

What happened later Prorok could not describe other than a miracle. Thace started reacting: he inhaled deeper again and again, cooed something softly, gulped, then, in an almost controlled movement, he turned his head to put it on the ex-Commander’s shoulder. Prorok looked at him and gasped - Thace’s single still functioning yellow eye was wide open, staring senselessly into the ceiling. For the first time since his injury, Thace was awake, touched and not screeching. 

Unable to believe what was happening, Prorok sat there, swaying him. After approximately half a varge, when Prorok carefully let Thace go and lay him back on the bed. His lover was sleeping with a smile on his disfigured face - the smile that to Prorok seemed like a tiny golden thread, a message from the previous, happier life. 


	7. Chapter 7

This victory, as tiny as it seemed, lifted Prorok’s spirits immensely and showed him that there was hope for him. Feeding and washing did not seem as difficult as they did with the patient smiling instead of screeching, and in the night, Prorok would sometimes fall asleep on Thace’s stretchers, hugging him - this way, his patient would feel secure and they would both sleep through the night. More sleep and a regulated schedule meant that Prorok’s military instincts awoke to their full potential. He has been locked up in the base for movements, separated from any sources of reliable information about the outside world, he had to reach out somehow. But where to start, given his limited physical abilities?

Now, he wasn’t just stumbling around the base like a newborn puppy, ignorant to everything apart from the most basic survival functions - looking helpless, he was now gathering intel. The base was initially a galran one - from what Prorok could understand, it was just an outpost, no production has ever been happening here. All such bases had just the most basic control centers, understandable even for officers without much engineering background and manageable by a tiny crew, sometimes even by one person. All data would be stored right in the main computer, which would also serve as a communication hub to the outside world.

“No, I will be there, I will depart tonight,” Prorok overheard Kolivan say. “These creatures need all the help we can get. No, nothing will happen, it should be alright. I already left them several times.”

That evening, Prorok didn’t let himself fall asleep no matter how much he wanted to. He planned to move out as soon as heavy rumbling of the spaceship would indicate that Kolivan has left, but Thace had one more late fit of cramps, so he was delayed by a varga. Navigating by touch and unclear memory, he wandered through corridors: the turn to the kitchen, three connected storage rooms, then he pushed the heavy door to the military part of the base. There, the air was different - colder than in the living quarters, and with this faint ozone smell from the constantly overstretched antimicrobial systems. This scent, familiar from long years of serving on boards of interplanetary ships, gave Prorok strength. He quickened his pace, sneaked past what must have been exits to the docks, and finally managed to find the control room. 

Prorok squinted, looking around - yes, a big screen, several boxes with wires for output sensors, and, of course, the communication hub. He limped towards it and sat down in the transmission operator’s chair: the controls were even easier then he expected, and old procedures that he used for entering the imperial frequencies still worked. After only a couple of doboshes of searching, he was already listening to inter-planet communications. 

Alas, how did the transmissions change! Chaos reigned where Prorok was used to hear clear and concise orders: frequencies seemed to be used by multiple groups at once, military identification procedures were abandoned (probably out of protest), so now Prorok was unable to find out who the talkers were exactly. Galran voices, clear and melodic, mixed with the weird whistling, grumbling, tweeting pronunciations of various alien species. Prorok slid his finger slowly and evenly - as evenly as his shaking hands would let him - and listened. He already knew all the facts, but hearing the proof to it on his own made him shiver. The Empire was no more. After agonizing years of strife, after disgusting warlords - warlords! how could Prorok’s brothers in arms ever think of calling themselves this shameful name! - and after Haggar’s final betrayal, the Empire turned into what they called the CIP, Confederation of Independent Planets. These planets seemed to form alliances - surely as frail as the will of their useless leaders; trade - following old imperial routes, of course, for inability to devise their own; and sink in constant quarrel. Very soon, Prorok felt nauseous just from listening to their news, and it wasn’t the worst yet. Prorok longed to hear just one single real voice, one warrior, one Commander, but all he got was mumbling of various aliens, sometimes praising Voltron and the Altean princess, both in the past tense for some reason. Desperate, Prorok shut the radio down and sank his face in his hands.

His Majesty, practically invulnerable and able to take on a Lion of Voltron single-handedly in combat, somehow dead? The omnipotent Empire, the glorious bond that made every Galra something special just by birthright, disappeared? Millennia and billions of lives spent on building it, countless battles won, thousands of species brought to submission - all wasted? All gone? This was impossible, simply impossible. Most surely, these traitors were hiding something. 

Prorok turned back towards the terminal: time for a more detailed search. He entered connection details for the general public info database about Galra citizens. It worked, but alas, fields and tables were blurry in front of his eyes, so he could not read anything. After some desperate squinting and bending forward, Prorok gave up on the idea and opened the hailing frequencies dialog instead. He entered the secured signal call of Trugg’s main cruiser - out of all commanders, she was always one of the fiercest and most cunning ones, plus she owed Prorok a lot for his earlier support. Surely she and at least some of her men survived? No answer came. Prorok dialled her private jet - he only remembered the code because he contacted her shortly before the battle. Nothing. Prorok dialled Raht, even though he knew he was dead - maybe his successor kept his call signal? Silence. Prorok’s own Jet One? No. The big support barge that they left in their sector before relocating to the main base before the battle with Voltron? The cannon cruiser? Silence everywhere. Out of pure spite, Prorok dialed one of the main base’s general-purpose channels and two of the planetary bases he remembered the codes for, but without any success. 

Prorok sank his head again - no facility would change their hailing code without a severe reason, has everything really been disbanded? What did they substitute all the infrastructure with? He now bitterly regretted having stored most of the private access codes in his communicator to avoid having to memorize them - he could have used these memories now. However, it was clear that without his eyes, he was unable to do anything for now. He closed all the connections, cleared open windows and wiped his fingerprints off the screen with his sleeve. Better go back to his room before Kolivan returns and finds him here. He has noticed the strange blinking in the upper right corner of the screen, but attributed it to some malfunctioning device. 


	8. Chapter 8

He went on living like he did before until the next evening, when whole two visitors appeared in the door: Kolivan and one more unfamiliar earthling.

“That’s them,” Kolivan said with his usual expression - half disgust, half irritation. Prorok immediately tensed up and tried flexing his fists. “You can make Prorok leave if you want to. Don’t know what you will be talking about to any of them, though.”

“Yeah, it’s alright, Kolivan,” the earthling said in a soft, low, rumbling voice. It looked as if there was not much warrior spirit in him. “Thank you so much, I really hate to bother you this unexpectedly.”

“As you wish, I’ll be in the control room,” Kolivan answered and left.

For a tick, Prorok and the earthling were staring at each other: the other one was rather heavily built, with dark skin, but Prorok could not make out many other details.

“So, Prorok,” he said. “What do you think you are you doing?” Prorok recognized his voice from a transmission from before - his visitor was Hunk, the Paladin of the Yellow Lion.

“I could ask you the same question.”

The Paladin frowned - Prorok felt it rather than saw: “You don't need to be that defensive, you know. I am doing you a huge favor by coming here personally. Your actions activated the antivirus I installed, so it alerted me. I know who you tried to dial and I know it was you, because Kolivan was away that quintant. I didn't tell anyone, because I didn't want to get you in trouble. I have come to tell you that hailing imperial fleets is useless, they all have been disbanded.”

“Then why does hailing them still activate a protection?”

The other one sighed.

"Because we don't want those who want to rebuild the Empire to gather and find each other easily. Democracy needs to be protected."

Prorok's considered saying that whenever someone takes it on themselves to protect democracy, they inevitably turn into tyrants, just without Zarkon’s brilliant military talent, but decided not to get into political discussions with an enemy.

"Why didn't you report the incident? Kolivan would be overjoyed to get me sentenced to something terrible."

“Yeah, but I am not sure I would be, either. We killed so many Galra when we had no other choice, I really don't want to further increase this number. What exactly did you want to achieve?”

As incredible as it was, the Paladin seemed to come to help. Prorok inhaled and exhaled: reckless words could harm him.

“I wanted to find someone from my fleet,” he said carefully. “Or someone I knew from other fleets, see if there were any survivors. I wanted to know what happened to Galra I knew. Are imperial databases still being supported? All my subordinates were listed there. If you gave me access, I could look there.”

The other one pulled a chair, sat down and sighed again.

“You can’t look anywhere the way you are now. Listen, I know that you are confused, having to endure such a time lapse. And, believe me, I can relate to your wish to find your friends - I know what it feels to lose people. I will help you in your search. But I’m telling you - I don’t think we will find many survivors, we did quite a number on your fleet that day. If you ask me, I think you should just give it up and try to live in the present. Let bygones be bygones, you have Thace you need to take care of.”

Prorok kept his silence - the other one seemed softhearted, silence has better effect than words with such people. It worked: Hunk sighed once again and pulled out a device - its shape looked unfamiliar. “Still, we don’t lose anything trying, do we? Fine, if you really want it - let us try to find your previous colleagues. Let me just connect to the Infosystem on the ship… Alrighty, who do you need?”

“Thag,” Prorok said quickly. If anyone survived, it would have been her: she was the strongest, the most resilient one. “Operations division. Her military identification code was kappa-singh-nine-seven-fifteen-nine.”

“Kappa...” the other one echoed. “Singh… Which one was singh, the one with the tail? Nine.. Oh… Dead the day we were saving princess Allura.”

Prorok knew it should have been expected, but grief still hit him so hard that he lost his breath.

“Yilvik...” he squeezed out, just to avoid showing his weakness. “Engineering, lis-anekh-three-three-seven-twenty.”

“Anekh… three… Dead, same day.”

“Gniv? Prok? Wait, I don’t know his code by heart… Hakor?”

The other one entered codes and only sighed. Dead. Everyone dead.

“What is the cumulative mortality?” Prorok asked, hardly able to hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears. “There must be a number at the bottom.”

“Look..” the other one started.

“Number!” Prorok barked.

“Eighty-seven percent.”

Prorok started shivering. That’s almost everyone. Every single dead because of his lust-clouded judgement.

“I am sorry, man...”

“Ellik,” Prorok croaked. “Look up doctor Ellik, Paladin. Lis-twelve-ikar-twelve-three.”

“...ikar-twelve… Alive! This one is alive.”

A ray of sun brightened the fog of panic and grief on Prorok’s mind.

“Contact him! Click ‘contact’! What are you waiting for? Where is he now?”

“Let me see… Right… So he is now living on a planet called Callum. Look, it says: ‘Occupation: Medicine’. Seems like he didn’t even change his job!”

The last thing Prorok cared about was if Ellik was still a doctor.

“Contact him! I need to talk to him right now!”

Hunk entered several commands and a hailing frequency was opened, but nobody answered. Terrible fear stung Prorok again - what if the database is outdated? It has been several decaphoebs and Ellik wasn’t that young, after all…

"It is nighttime at their planet, but we should have at least gotten a negative ping signal… Oh look, it seems that the signal isn't holding properly - so many layers of stone around us are absorbing all waves. Let us go to the base's communication room - it must have antennae on the surface."

“Out of question,” Kolivan said when Hunk disclosed their plan to him. “I won’t allow Prorok to establish any connections. What were you even thinking, Hunk?”

Prorok’s hands itched with desire to slam the Blade’s leader’s face into the table, but he kept his silence - with Thace's wellbeing at stake, his pride had to wait.

"Why not? He knew this Ellik guy before, I don’t see why…”

“I need his medical opinion for Thace,” Prorok blurted out, struck by a sudden idea. “He is the most experienced medic I know, I need his help. You of all Galra know how weak Thace is - I hate to repeat it, but his illness is your fault: after all, you were the one to send him on his last mission. Try to ease your guilt by at least showing him to a proper doctor."

Hunk uttered a short reproachful sigh at this manipulative statement, but Prorok didn't care for his opinion. 

“Thace was stable last time I took care of him,” Kolivan got predictably enraged. “Did you screw him up and are trying to cover for it now?”

“It would be very difficult to screw him up more than it has already been done by you,” Prorok answered, also hardly able to contain his hatred. 

“Hey, folks, wow, stop it!” Hunk tried to intervene, but neither of Galra was willing to listen to him.

“His inner organs can fail anytime, if any of the readings on your miserable devices are correct,” Prorok went on. “I have zero medical knowledge and about as much agility as a newborn cub. Ulaz is anywhere but here to help. Call him and ask him if he wants to spend his glorious young life sitting at Thace’s side and wiping his saliva!”

It was afer conversations like this that Prorok wondered how Kolivan didn’t behead him right there - but instead, he did call Ulaz, and it was the young doctor who changed his leader’s mind.

“Ellik?” he asked reflectively. “Wait, isn’t it _the_ Ellik? The discoverer of the adaptive functions of somatostatin hormone? The inventor of the recursive blood cleansing procedure?”

“Yes, that would be the one,” Prorok answered, proud of himself: the latter discovery was made while Ellik served in his fleet and cost the Commander half of the rare metals they were discovering. It felt nice having someone know it by heart.

“Kolivan, we have to contact him!” Ulaz exclaimed, sounding like a schoolboy about to meet his favourite gladiator. “This is Ellik! I read his articles as a student! And his ‘Hormones and their application’ book, it is just classics!”

“Let us contact him, Kolivan,” Hunk added. “What do we even lose? We can start talking ourselves and then see if we allow Prorok to speak up.”

Kolivan agreed, but he was far from happy.

“Fine, we will contact him in the morning, but we need to exercise caution. Besides, let us see if the doctor even wants to talk to someone like him,” 

It took Prorok all his strength to hide how much the truth in these words scared him.


	9. Chapter 9

Prorok spent the rest of the night pacing to and fro in Thace’s tiny room, unable to sleep for shame and grief. So many dead, so many of those he considered his family, and not just for lack of an actual one. Thaggie dead, his little feisty Hakor dead, all dead fighting his battle - the battle sabotaged by his lover who he trusted blindly. All these brilliant Galra gone, their futures erased, their aspirations vanished: how could he ever wash himself clean of their blood? How can he talk to Ellik after all that happened? And what if the data is old and Ellik had already died, too? What if he is badly injured and unable to assist anyone, himself in need of help? And what if - Prorok tried to chase this thought as far away as possible, but it kept resurfacing - what if he knows everything and will refuse to even look at the murderer of his comrades? Prorok imagined the doctor’s smart eyes squint disdainfully at him and started pacing faster until physical exertion numbed the anxiety.

“You stupid, stupid poor thing,” he whispered when he fed Thace his midnight smoothie and massaged his leg stumps to ease cramps. “What were you hoping for, joining the Blades? How did these terrorists recruit you? What could they probably offer you that I could not? Oh I wish you would talk to me!”

In the early morning, Prorok splashed some icy tap water into his face - Ellik must not be allowed to see his troubled state - arranged his pathetic clothes as neatly as could, straightened himself to achieve at least a shadow of his earlier posture and was in the control room immediately after the lamps lit up to signal the starting of a new day. Ulaz arrived in the night, so it was him, Kolivan, Hunk and Prorok present. The Blades made the ex-Commander step aside to avoid being immediately seen. They dialed the number from the database: it turned out to be the general hailing code of the hospital, so it took them at least twenty doboshes and some of the pressure of the Paladin’s status until Ellik showed himself on the big screen. His face was just a blurry shadow for Prorok, but his high voice stayed exactly the same.

“I don’t know to what I owe the pleasure,” the old doctor said without a greeting in his signature polite yet condescending tone. “But I remind you that with each dobosh of my time that you gentlemen occupy, another patient might not get proper medical treatment.”

With malevolent joy, Prorok noticed that the icy greeting got to Kolivan - he crossed his arms on his chest, being visibly uncomfortable. Alas, Ulaz's enthusiasm couldn’t be stopped that easily. 

“Good morning, Doctor Ellik! My name is Ulaz, I am a medic in the Blade of Marmora. Sir, I am so happy to meet you personally, it is such an honor! I read all your books, you are by far the most...”

“What do you want from me?” Ellik asked, and Ulaz only opened and closed his mouth like an offended child. Not having received an answer within the next half of the tick, the old doctor already bent forward to disconnect, but Prorok made a step to the side to get into the camera range.

“Doctor Ellik...” he started, but had to swallow down forcefully to continue speaking. In the sleepless night, he had prepared a speech: many smooth, thought-out words that would explain everything to Ellik, make him remember the old days, but now it all vanished from his head. “Doctor, please wait for just one more tick, I…”

“Commander Prorok!” Ellik yelled. He jumped forward to see better and knocked the communication unit down in haste, so everyone had to wait over the flickering picture while he was trying to get it from under the table.

“Sir! Are you real? How can this be?!” Ellik exclaimed after he retrieved the communicator. He was now holding it close to his face, so the whole big screen was just his nose, familiarly broad at the bridge and pointy at the end. “I thought you were dead!”

“I… was dead, in a way.” Prorok stuttered, unsure about how frank he could be with the enemies around him. “The Ro-Beast… the machine I was placed in got stuck in a warped time-space bubble. But now I am back in the regular universe and I thought...”

“You are alive! Goodness! Commander, I am so glad to see you!”

“You can drop the title,” Kolivan noted. “He is not your Commander anymore.”

Ellik did not acknowledge his words in any way: “I missed you so much, Sir! How are you feeling?”

“I missed you too, Doctor,” Prorok murmured, unable to hold back a broad smile of joy and relief. His eyes started watering, so he had to blink faster to see anything. “Heavens, I am so glad you are alright, I feared you might be dead, too, like the others, but look at you - healthy and still willing to talk to me. I am fine, thank you, but...”

“What are you doing with the Blade of Marmora and the Paladins of Voltron?” Ellik interrupted him suspiciously. “Did they capture you? And what’s wrong with your eyes, why are you not looking at me straight?”

The precision of Ellik’s insight felt both sweet and unnerving.

“No, the paladins saved me, it seems... They pulled me out of the bubble and out of the machine. I haven’t been able to see clearly ever since I was separated from the wires, and I have trouble controlling my body. Doctor, I desperately need your expertise. Would there be a chance for you to...”

“Say no more! Send me the coordinates, and I'll… oh wait, here they are. I have surgeries planned for today, but I will clear the following days and depart immediately after I am done here.”

Prorok only meant to say “for you to talk to me without witnesses”, but Ellik was dead set on arriving the same evening. After details of the doctor's arrival were cleared and agreed upon, Prorok left the room triumphant. Ellik’s joy was much more than just seeing an old friend - somewhere in this world, there still were people for whom Prorok was more than a dangerous relic from the imperial times.

“The Doctor will patch you right up,” he promised Thace while changing his diaper. The ex-Lieutenant didn’t react, drooling on Prorok’s sleeve.


	10. Chapter 10

To Prorok’s amazement, Ellik did in fact arrive the same night - he had to use a wormhole for that, but the Commander left questions for later. It was already very late, so the annoying Paladin already left. Still, Ulaz and Kolivan were present, making Prorok feel convoyed. Ellik, a small light shadow, retained his sharp eye and quick judgement.

“Commander,” he exclaimed, straightened himself and saluted Prorok with the military salute. He always hated the decorum and never performed the official salute unless he really had to, so Prorok knew he only did it to support him. The ex-Commander straightened himself, too, and answered the salute as precisely as he could.

“Now if young people would be decent enough to leave, I could examine you, Sir.”

“No, I’m fine,” Prorok tried to protest, gleeing internally at the rage that Kolivan seemed to emit into the air. “It’s not me you need to examine...”

Ellik showed his unyielding side. He chased angry Kolivan out (“young people today - they know nothing about decency anymore!”), cut Ulaz short with his offerings of help (“I'll have his readings, now we’ll manage without external help, thank you”) and laid Prorok on the same examination table he woke up on two movements ago.

“So how and when did they blind you?” he asked first thing when the door behind the Blades closed. “And how freely can we speak here?”

Prorok told him everything he knew about the Ro-Beast and the folded space while Ellik’s careful, light fingers traced along his arms and legs, sometimes pressing a certain spot and sometimes provoking an surge of pain. By the time Ellik put his hands on the metal plate on the back of Prorok’s head, the Commander’s story was over. He omitted the part with Thace, though, for unclear fear of offending the doctor.

Ellik removed the plate, connected Prorok to a terminal and scrolled shortly through columns of data.

“Let me run some quick tests - then I’ll be able to give you more information...” He was changing values after values - his manipulations didn’t hurt like those the Blades have tried, but didn’t bring any improvement, either. Finally, Ellik sighed. “Commander, I am unable to help as of right now. As it seems, they stabilised your state in general, but to make any finer adjustments, I would need more time and help from my fellow doctors. Luckily, in our hospital, we are quite well-endowed when it comes to personnel. If nothing holds you here, I suggest that I take you with me, my ship is big enough for two.”

In his brightest dreams, Prorok could not have imagined that the doctor would simply miracle him away from this coffin of a base!

“I cannot go alone, doctor: Thace is here, too,” he blurted out. “And he is in much worse state than I. Actually, he is the reason I contacted you in the first place.”

“Thace is alive?” Ellik gasped, straightened himself and swallowed forcefully - with Prorok’s sharpened hearing, he could make it out clearly.

“Yes,” Prorok answered, tensing up. Why would the news about the ex-Lieutenant’s presence provoke the doctor like that? Prorok would rather expect him to be happy. There was something, and Prorok wasn’t prepared.

“Commander, there is something I probably need to tell you...” Ellik seemed unusually hesitant, he went silent, and Prorok shivered in agony - is he going to say that he cannot help?

“Just say it!” he snarled with more aggression than he expected from himself.

“It is about Thace, Commander… He… Did you talk to him, no? They wouldn’t let you? Look, I don’t want to spread rumours, but, Thace - he was… He might have been a member of Blade of Marmora, Commander. I fear that he might have been the one responsible for raising the solar barrier to let Voltron escape.”

“Oh, it is just that,” Prorok exhaled, sweaty with relief. “Yes, I know. I mean - I know now, they told me that, I had no idea before…. I considered telling you, but I didn’t want to just mention it in haste. Yes, they claim that he was a Blade, but they provide no proof, and I do not believe them a tick. He could have been affiliated with them before he joined our fleet - but what they accuse him of are lies, I’m telling you. It it true that he was unhappy in the Empire... but it doesn't mean anything, and it doesn’t matter now anyway. Now, he is very sick, really very sick, Doctor, he is on the verge of dying and I don’t know why. Please…”

“He has been unhappy? So you knew? Since when? And you just let him be?”

Prorok turned his head away from the doctor: Ellik’s words hurt him. How easy would it be to just say he never had any clue! To make the doctor believe that Prorok was clean, trustworthy, and a good Commander for his underlings. And yet, Prorok has already seen this wall of lies separate him from someone he cared about, and he remembered the excruciating feeling of it growing thicker every day and not understanding why. He couldn't allow this for the second time, so he crashed into it with the whole truth.

“Doctor,” he said. “Although I have not known about Thace being a Blade before I was separated from the Ro-Beast, I should have suspected that he was untrustworthy for quite some time. I knew he was unhappy with at least some imperial policies and that he might get an idea to sabotage them. I let him go free, though, because I trusted that he wouldn’t hurt my interests…” Now came the difficult part, and Prorok inhaled deeply before continuing, “I believed him, because he was my lover. I trusted that he wouldn’t hurt my fleet, and I have reasons to think that the Blades might be exaggerating their role in his life to say the least. They also attribute the opening of the barrier to him without a proof - we will never know the truth about Thace’s allegiance if he doesn’t wake up and explain himself. But whatever he did or did not do, it was my fault - I thought I had the situation under control, but apparently I was wrong.”

He held his breath, waiting for the doctor’s reaction. And nothing terrible happened.

“My poor Commander,” Ellik answered. “Must have been such a burden for you, suspecting and not being able to act on it without offending Thace. I must say: you hid really well, I had no idea. Bend your head right, please, I need to re-check your neck arteria. Who cut your sideburns, a drunk butcher?”

They only got to Thace in a varga, but by that time, Prorok was a different person. How much could just one sane, consistent, trustworthy talk change! When Ellik was done examining him, he felt almost happy again, nut the feeling quickly vanished when they entered Thace's room.

It took Ellik one glance to assess the direness of the situation, but he made the mistake of pulling the blanket off too roughly, waking his patient up to start screeching again. Ellik checked him whole and took blood samples, despite the cramps and the crying, and then professionally helped Prorok calm him down; then they both sat down in the end of the bed. Ellik unfolded his portable mini-laboratory and started the analysis of Thace’s blood, while Prorok pat Thace on the back senselessly.

“This is shocking, Commander,” the doctor said after looking into the screen for a while. “ When you said his situation was dire, I knew you meant it, but this… You were right to call for additional help - Thace is one foot away from grave, and I don’t understand why. This portable thing doesn’t have many tests for poisons, thought, so I am probably missing something. Listen, you two really should consider moving to Callum. In the hospital, I could run more specialised tests. I know it is strenuous…”

“Strenuous? Goodness, Ellik, I couldn’t be happier to get out of here, from this forsaken base! But we have no money, nothing literally. I haven’t been allowed any communications with the outer world, let alone queries about what has been left of my credits. We will be a burden to you.”

“Pfft, burden! If only you knew what hordes of patients without GSI come to my office every day! GSI ist ‘general state insurance’, by the way, and it is only marginally better than no insurance at all. They introduced it after the war has ended, and I can tell you - it is a bureaucratic nightmare! Can you imagine that we have to fill out three acts per patient just to do initial screening? They invent more and more tricks to pay for nothing - every second document we send gets returned unapproved. Anyway, that's a story for another time. If you don't mind going, then I consider it settled - we only need to figure out how to fit Thace into my jet. Maybe these so-called Blades have a bigger one and lend it us?”

"I think they do, and they'll be happy to give it just to get rid of us… You know what, Doctor, I'll need you a do me another favour when we arrive on Callum. I want the biggest bottle of fur moisturizer they produce, and a decent manicure set."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since someone added the story to their bookmarks, I have to continue! More chapters will follow soon.

Callum, close enough to the local sun to produce opulent flora, but not too close to be turned into a lifeless desert, was a paradise corner of the universe. A wide belt of tropical climate areas occupied the biggest part of its dry land - there were no continents, just an insane amount of islands, separated by floods and connected during ebbs. Ellik’s hospital was situated just outside the capital city - a giant village, according to the doctor, but the only one with civilized, tall buildings. Prorok first mistook modern spires and skyscrapers on the horizon for rain clouds. 

The hospital was located in what had been the palace of a local king several centuries ago, before the arrival of the Galra. The old building was surrounded by a huge abandoned park that, for the lack of gardeners to look after it properly, was slowly turning into the same jungle that reigned here before sentient beings came and tried to change it. Now finally out of desolation and hosting numerous living creatures, the palace was being gradually rebuilt to accomodate a constantly growing stream of patients and provide the needed level of sterility, but some residues of earlier barbaric luxury remained. 

The ceilings in Thace’s new chamber were at least four meters high. Every morning Prorok pushed his patient’s recliner wheelchair onto a huge balcony and took a couple of doboshes to watch the purplish-red sun rise above the carved, gold-plated balustrade, decorated with stone animals. Rains and winds have melted their features, so now they were looking at the ex-Commander with their empty, expressionless faces, covered with green film of algae. Thick vines wrapped themselves around them, making them look as if they were wearing space suits made of leaves. Ellik’s team lead a desperate war with the ivy, cutting it and digging its roots out, but it managed to regrow within literal movements, very soon even thicker than before.

Yes, Thace had a mobile reclinable wheelchair now, so that Prorok could move him around without bothering him. Ellik organized it for him immediately after their arrival - he said that the hospital had plenty of furniture left after the confiscation of Quartermeister Janka’s warehouses. Alas, the furniture and gifted Galran doctors were the only assets that the hospital seemed to have in abundance - even Prorok with his semi-blind eyes immediately noticed the miserable machinery and lack of medication supplies. 

Immediately after Thace was taken care of, Ellik and his team connected to Prorok’s brain and performed a huge and extremely fine job of re-pinging every nerve channel in his spine to understand which ones were broken. For several quintants, Prorok would spend almost all the time in the neural activity scanner.

“See, Commander,” Ellik would explain him, bent towards the monitor with ever-shifting graphs indicating nerve activity in Prorok's body, wrapping his goatee around his index finger, like he always used to do when he was thinking. “We think that moving around and seeing things is an extremely easy task, but, in fact, these are highly complex behavioral patterns. Obviously, Haggar failed - or had never tried - to create a machine that would perform these tasks with the precision and speed of a living creature. Instead, she took a living brain - in this case yours - and plugged machine parts right into it. She must have used dark quintessence to override the higher mental functions, like goal-setting and self-awareness, and doped the brain with a carefully chosen cocktail of hormones. She induced permanent rage and unbearable longing to fight, making her experiment chase its aim until it reaches it or dies of exhaustion.”

“Well, thank you for referring to me as ‘it’ and ‘experiment’,” Prorok snorted, but Ellik paid him little attention. Once he would start lecturing, he was very difficult to stop. 

“Motor functions in Galra are being regulated by the cerebellum, the 'lizard brain', located roughly here,” Ellik poked himself somewhere in the nape. “So it made sense for her to go through the back of the skull, to minimize the drilling and tissue damage. However, when these screw-armed imbeciles from the Blade were removing the wires that went into your skull, they tapped into the medulla. What? Yes, the medulla - the brain part responsible for various life-sustaining functions like breathing and digestion. No wonder you started dying.... I assume that it is due to their unprofessional intervention that you suffer these complications. I mean, the whole procedure of creating a Ro-Beast is an amazing feat of science, the precision and daring nature are just beyond anything! I would not expect a procedure conducted with such finesse to have this sort of brutal side effects."

"I am glad to provide you with such valuable scientific insights!” Prorok snickered. Ellik now reminded him of an arusian chicken in rut, all flustered and excited, waving his hands and exclaiming things under his nose.

Despite his lecturing, Ellik would nevertheless never stop his work, giving Prorok short sharp pains in various parts of his body and making him show the number of fingers corresponding to the intensity of the sensation. Still, he was still careful - or skilled - enough to avoid torturing his patient like Ulaz did. And, another difference - his intervention yielded results: after he found and dissolved a blood clot in something called the “visual bump”, Prorok’s vision improved significantly, and later so did his balance, strength and agility. Reading was still an issue, but he saw those around him, was able to react to their facial expressions - what a joy! He walked around without staggering and started using a kitchen knife without fearing to cut his fingers off. The downside was that now his eyesight got even more susceptible to bad light conditions or bright sun, but under medium light conditions, he saw quite well.

In parallel, Ellik’s team took care of Thace, having put him through healing pod, tested him for every poison available and administered massages, vitamin infusions and warm cushions.

“I can not prescribe anything more invasive,” Ellik told Prorok, while they were seated at Thace’s side on the balcony. Unlike when treating the ex-Commander, the doctor always looked worried when it came to the ex-Lieutenant. “The healing pod only worsens his wellbeing - a complication I have never witnessed in my life; and he is really, really weak. He urgently needs plastic surgery for his scars: he keeps tearing them open, and this is an invitation for all kind of infections, but he won’t survive the narcosis.”

“Could you find out what is wrong with him?”

Ellik sighed and scratched himself behind the bald ear. 

“Well, the first thing he is suffering from are burns and their consequences. These burns…” he sighed, took Thace’s surviving hand and stared at it. “You see, Commander, a burn is not a burn. You say that he was trapped near an overloaded reactor. I will leave aside how utterly unrealistic it is to survive such an explosion - he should have been vaporized! - but even without that, let us assume he was protected by Haggar’s shield - he would have been burnt by heat. When tissue is damaged by heat - think about fried meat, that is what happens to our body. Everything chars: first, the skin, then flesh and nerve tissue - a burnt steak.”

“The last thing I want to think about is a burnt steak,” Prorok answered, fighting nausea from the doctor’s overly realistic description. “Where are you getting?”

“These scars are not from being burnt with high temperature. Look here - ah, you still cannot see well enough, give me your hand… do you feel that? You feel these lumps? Feels like waves, doesn't it? His skin has been melting, gliding down, and solidifying again. This is what happens when someone gets burnt with acid or other chemically active substance. Thace is either not suffering from thermal burns, or I suspect that someone has been using healing methods I have never heard of, regrowing liquid flesh, and was interrupted in the process.”

“Well, the druids got hold of him after they cleared out the debris after the explosion and needed to keep him alive enough to interrogate him - that’s what I have been told.”

“Druids… The dark quintessence again. I wish the Paladins made at least the outline of its capabilities public, maybe then we medics could have at least theorized about its side effects.”

They sat there in silence for a while, contemplating.

“Anyway, the second and major thing that plagues Thace is this weird poisoning. His urine and blood values are elevated in the manner that suggests that his body is fighting a pathogen. He does have minor inflamed scars - particularly around the arm stub - but they could not provide such a strong reaction. In the meantime, his inner organs are working on high revs trying to get rid of the poisoning. It is not long until they start giving in.”

“What do you mean - give in?” Prorok asked, feeling fur on his neck raise. “What happens then?”

“Exactly what you think,” Ellik answered gloomily. “That is why is imperative that we do find this pathogen that is poisoning him. Otherwise my bet is that in less than a decaphoeb, his liver will fail. Liver necrosis will provoke a massive poisoning in addition to what he has now. This will make his lungs collapse, we will, of course, ventilate mechanically… But after it happens, his vargas are numbered.”

Prorok allowed himself a controlled exhale.

“He is still much, much better ever since we got here,” he said. “Much less screeching, cramps only about once in a movement… I used to fight them every couple of vargas. And he breathes so much better!”

“Wet air,” Ellik answered. “The forest is near - it does wonders for respiratory distress. Except when you are allergic to pollen, of course.”

They both laughed, but Prorok’s heart was still cold and scared.

“I wish he would talk to us,” Ellik went on. “Then I would know what he was subjected to. All tests for heavy metals, organic and anorganic pathogens and infections I have are clear. I contacted other doctors whose opinion I trust, but we haven’t come up with anything groundbreaking. In this regard, I have no idea how it will develop: maybe it will be like I pictured, but maybe he will overcome it - he is a young, strong man, after all… or at least he has been. We can only wait and act symptomatically.” 

“If he had been conscious enough to talk, he wouldn’t have let them poison him in the first place,” Prorok sighed. “But he is not conscious for quite some time as it seems.”

“Actually,” Ellik raised his head. “I wouldn’t call this unconscious, he very much perceives the world around him, just associates every touch with pain. You seem to be one lucky exception, though, Commander, I have no idea how you managed to achieve it.”

“I… well, I hugged him, like a baby, you know? There was one day, I basically grabbed him in a hug and he just stopped screeching and let himself be calmed.”

Ellik kept pulling on his goatee for a while.

“Smell! The least studied of all senses, and the most ancient one. He smelled you, Commander, and it seems that his nose remembers you deeper than his broken semi-consciousness does. Isn’t that just cute?”

Prorok shrugged, embarrassed and angry. He and Ellik never mentioned the love affair openly, and now he felt dangerously exposed.

“Seriously, though, Doctor,” he continued. “He is doing much better here. Isn’t this a sign that his body will fight the poisoning off eventually?”

“Hope is always there, but if I ever relied on it, I wouldn’t be a very good medic. I have contacted Arus, they have some of those extra fine sieves to separate blood in fractions.I’ve sent his blood samples to them, let us see what they answer.” 

“I am really sorry we are depleting your funds so much, Doctor… Can I do something in return? I am living here, on your costs, and now this…”

“Not on my costs, Commander. I filed for rehabilitation of a resistance soldier about Thace. After the war, the paladins of Voltron established a fund that pays for medical expenses of anyone who helped them defeat the empire, as a sign of gratitude. This fund pays royal money - forget the scraps from GCI! You are in the files, too - as Thace's caretaker. So, if anything, you two are an asset to the hospital - you don't cost as much as they pay for you, and with the remaining money, I can order procedures for a couple of poor blokes who cannot afford proper medical care. At least something good has to come out of Thace’s stupid Blade allegiance…”

“Alleged allegiance,” Prorok said quickly. “We have no proof that he was, in fact, a Blade by the time we knew him. For all we know, he was faithful.”

“But someone opened the solar barrier, Commander,” Ellik murmured under his nose. “They say it was him.”

  
“It wasn’t him!” Prorok barked out too loudly. Ellik twitched, and Thace whined quietly, so he immediately lowered his voice to a dramatic hiss. “It could have been anyone! The base was flooded by Galra from three different fleets - not to mention Haggar’s people!”

“The Emperor trusted High Priestess and the druids with his life,” Ellik answered in the same quiet voice.

“And look where it got him! He should have trusted us, Galra - and we should trust each other, now more than ever! Don’t let the lies those rebels spread disconnect us, Doctor - this is exactly what they want from you! I trusted Thace - not before I tested him, tested thoroughly - and I stand by my judgement: Thace has been faithful.”

“He saved Red Paladin Keith," Ellik was hardly audible now.

“Well, he was grieving and tortured and not thinking clearly - it must have seemed like a good idea to help anyone opposing the Empire. The Paladin himself emphasizes how Thace was at the verge of collapsing! What long-run strategies do you expect from a man in this state?”

“But you said...”

“I said he had  _ doubts,  _ Doctor - you were right, he knew too much. Yes, I blame myself for not having addressed these issues when I should have done it, but surely you know the difference between doubting and betraying?"

Ellik said nothing, but his breath didn't sound very reassured, so Prorok thought that the Doctor might reassess his decision to help them, panicked and decided to play his strongest card.

"I know one more Galra who used to have doubts, do you have any idea who I am talking about?”

“How can you!” Ellik exclaimed, straightening. “I was faithful! I would not harm my fellows! I - of course, I am a medic, how could I look at all these aliens dying without any help and stay indifferent - but I would never conspire with the enemies of the state!”

“Yes, and Thace wouldn't, either. His name was slandered! Back then, you came to me with your concerns, and I helped - you had the luxury to be helped. Thace also had doubts - much like yours, by the way, but more on the political side - and he did not happen to have a trusted ear. They used him, Ellik, they pretended to understand him and recruited him for their misdeeds! He was so lonely that he got involved with this idiotic Etor...”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter, all I am saying is - he was lonely, Doctor, he needed someone to take interest in him, and I was not there for him yet. They managed to sway him to their side - maybe, or maybe he was just pretending - but he was faithful while he was in my fleet! He did not spy on us!”

“You really believe in him, don’t you, Sir,” Ellik sighed. “And they never showed any proof when they told his story in the transmissions… You know, if you think he was faithful, then I do, too. I trust your judgement more than what these traitors say.”

Prorok laughed out with relief. 

“Thank you, Doctor. It is an honor to be trusted by a Galra like you. A traitor is a traitor - these Blades have been conspiring against their own for millennia, what truths do you expect from them?”

“You are probably right,” Ellik smiled, too. “Let us just continue living and healing and the future will show who was right. Coming back to your offer of help, if you have time - we need you here. Ask Darra, our chief nurse, or in the geriatric department... Or, you know, just enjoy your life for a while - I know you are used to working all day long, but you can consider doing less. I need to go now, my consultation hours start in ten doboshes, but I’ll come over again in the evening. Doctor Anank is coming to see you two today about Thace's upset stomach, do you remember? It would be better if you could wake Thace up right before his visit, so that he is less cranky.”

“Sure,” Prorok smiled. “Good luck with your patients today, Doctor. I’ll make sure Thace is in a perfect mood.”

When the doctor left, Prorok did not hurry to get up - he first leaned back in his chair and squinted. The forest was blooming, the wind was bringing waves of enticing scents - something between a lily and a nenuphar, plus the usual mushy and watery mixture, but it was not enough to relieve the weight on Prorok’s heart. 

“Go on living and healing, you heard that?” He asked Thace. “Not that it isn’t right… But there is no way am I going to just live and wait for something to happen. If only my friends were alive, I would have asked them, but in our situation, we'll have to find other ways.”


	12. Chapter 12

Despite the newly found fear for Thace's life, Callum still seemed like paradise for Prorok. Every next quintant, he woke up feeling better than before. There was food - proper, tasty food! Not just tasteless smoothies for Thace and ratios for him, but nuts, fish, and lots of vegetables that could awake even a dead person’s appetite. There were soft beds and decent clothes made of natural fabric, furdressers and manicure sets, and all sorts of helpers who could substitute Prorok when he wanted to leave. 

But, most importantly, there was company. So many Galra to talk to, and all of them more all less happy about Prorok’s arrival. Ellik has recruited most of his old friends and extended family, saving them from the horrors of the post-war devastations, and Prorok had met many of them personally one way or another, so now they greeted the ex-Commander with joy that almost brought him to tears several times. Exiled, many of them injured one way or another, on a foreign planet, they managed to build a huge anthill of an institution that hid behind the simplistic name “Callum General-Purpose Medical Center”. What other proof of galran superiority could Prorok ask for?

The ex-Commander still spent the biggest part of his day with Thace, and when he wasn’t busy tending to his patient’s needs, he kept listening to old transmissions, for lack of ability to read old newspapers. Almost phoeb by phoeb, he followed the eclipse of his state and gritted his teeth at all the missed opportunities. And then, on top of everything, Haggar.

“This is who you and your Blades should have tried to murder instead of his Majesty,” he told Thace. “And us commanders… we could have done more to open his eyes on her!”

Galra were chased away from planets they claimed theirs by force, the imperial laws were disbanded and substituted by local codexes, even if the latter ones were older and less appropriate. Still, on top of everything, imperial trade routes persisted, as well as their communication codes and production norms. Prorok took it as one more proof of the superiority of the Galran government.

When Thace would fall asleep, Prorok would get out - walk through the corridors, help nurses with duties that were easy enough even for him to perform, insert a joke here and a compliment there to occasionally lighten the moods. Most of all, though, he would listen to the talks in the halls. The hospital accepted all patients on equal terms. The diversity of sick aliens amazed Prorok - he saw almost every race at least once. Galras were among the patients, too, albeit by far not in the amounts he would prefer to see them. It was not as bad as he feared - the aliens showed little resentment towards their previous masters, or maybe it was the hospital atmosphere that united everyone. Although some of the patients were more pleasant then the others...

Prorok started taking Thace out to one of the more civilized parts of the park, where paths were broad enough for a wheelchair. It wasn’t that Thace needed these walks so much - he was as fine sleeping on the balcony as he was being taken out - but it was an excuse for Prorok to use the time to listen and mingle more often. For the first couple of times, stumbled into mothers with newborn babies or nurses supervising other patients. With them, he would listen in to local gossips (not very interesting for him for the lack of context) or nod sympathetically to stories about colics. They served him no purpose, but at least they were harmless and more or less friendly - not like his next acquaintance. 

Prorok had just sat down, adjusted the wheelchair to stand straight on the bumpy pavement in front of his favourite bench, and was about to start looking around him, when he heard another person approaching. The ex-Commander squinted in his direction, but the sun was shining too brightly that day, impairing his vision.

“Quiznak take this quiznaking sun... and the bushes, ouch - a stone, really? quiznak knows who invented these stones, oh my foot, oh... who put them here, uh, if only I had my blaster, but nooo... oh, who didn’t bother to… ouch, freaking quiznak!”

Prorok froze, his ears turned forward to catch every word the intruder was saying. Judging by the low, hoarse voice, it was a Galra, male, not particularly young. With his age, he had to be either a war veteran or a complete rear dummy - and he sounded nothing like a rear dummy! At long last, someone worthy! Maybe even someone who would share Prorok's unhappiness, someone who would understand! Breathless, Prorok sat there, unsure if it would be more advantageous to stand up call out to the stranger or wait. The next tick, the other one stumbled right through the bushes like a mammuth. Prorok opened his mouth to greet him, but...

“Oh Quiznak take it, Galran juggernauts here, too?”

Prorok closed his mouth with a snap, his hopes shattered.

“Surprise,” he said maybe a little too harshly with disappointment. “And what are you supposed to be?” 

“What are you, blind or something?” the intruder asked, walking around Prorok and the wheelchair and sitting down on the other end of the bench. Prorok wasn’t blind anymore - but he still couldn’t quite make out what race the intruder was.

“Brilliant,” he sneered. “How did you come to the amazing conclusion, kind sir?”

The other one ignored his sarcasm.

“So you really cannot see me… And I know who you are: you’re Prorok, Zarkon’s talking head. I remember seeing you on screen - though back then, you looked half a century younger and half a Weblum slimmer. Maybe the same Weblum that gnawed on your sideburns."

“Judging by how you almost fell over into that bush when walking, I assume you aren't your fittest and prettiest, either. Or is the cane you are using purely decorative?” Prorok noted, unwilling to start an open argument. Despite the comment about his sideburns, he felt flattered that someone still remembered him for his speeches, not just the title. The stranger, however, had other plans.

“How are you doing, _Com-man-der_?” he asked, accentuating the title. “How is your glorious fleet doing these days? Do you still have much to tell the universe?”

The other one shouldn't have started this petty fight, but if he did… 

"You are lucky you haven’t met me before. I wouldn’t have wasted a single word on animals like you - a whip would suffice. Even now, your barking does not sound worthy of my attention... yet. Though maybe if you wiggled your tail a little?“

To the ex-Commander’s great surprise, the intruder burst into a series of insults, mostly revolving around Galra being incestuous.

“Did I guess right, do you actually have a tail?” he asked after the other one has tired himself out into a pause and sank into coughing. 

The other one laughed - Prorok heard bitterness and decaphoeb-long rage behind this cold laughter.

“Yes, I do, or at least I was born with it - not much of it is left now. I bet you wouldn’t even remember the word if I told you the name of my race - but your patient would, if he woke up. You tyrants will always remember my name, though - I am Lucky Tarrik.”

Prorok flinched and clutched the handles of Thace’s wheelchair in an instinctive attempt to protect him. Of course he remembered! Lucky Tarrik - who in the Empire did not know his name? Tarrik, called “the Fiery” in his younger years, fought, while the rest of his race cowered in fear like the infamous Slav. He was the most wanted criminal, the most effective terrorist, the most ruthless mass-murderer in the rebellion of the last two decades. He was responsible for the horrendous explosion on Balto that wiped out the entire, mostly military, population and reawakened the volcanoes, rendering the planet uninhabitable. He sabotaged the engines on the “Executor” barge, the biggest mobile prison of the Empire, and freed over five thousand most vicious enemies of the state. He hunted down and murdered a dozen governors, known for their repressive policies. Two times he was captured and both times he managed to escape - miraculously, under circumstances that could not be attributed to anything but his famous luck. He lost three of his eight arms and an eye in combat. During his first escape, a sharpshooter guard managed to injure his knee, giving him his signature limp. Almost all his friends and followers vanished in various pursuits, he was several times accused of treason but was always cleared of all accusations. Oh yes, Prorok knew the name very well.

“Liar,” he said coldly, letting go of the wheelchair and hunching again. ”In front of a blind man, you can call yourself an altean princess - I wouldn’t be able to check. You should have chosen a less famous name, though - why would Lucky Tarrik live on this little planet, in this hospital, run by Galra? Why wouldn't he be with his own, basking in their admiration? If he is still alive, that is.”

It was more of a blind shot, really, but, amazingly, he managed to hit a sore spot. 

“Ellik is a good doctor, they said!” the other one barked. “He has decaphoebs of experience treating old orthopaedic problems, apparently! But all he does is sigh and administer sulphur baths. Sulphur baths! All the sulfur in the universe won’t grow my kneecap back!”

“Ellik is a smart Galra, he probably knows you cannot be helped. But he is also honorable. He tries his best with his scarce funds and miserable wrecks like you, who have far outlived their time.”

The other one did not give up - maybe he really was Tarrik?

“Is that why he is looking after you, too? Or does he keep you like an animal in a zoo, to show you off, fangs and claws pulled out? To look extra kind and progressive in comparison to your bestial xenophobia?”

Prorok pressed his jaws together and counted backwards from five to calm down. This alien seriously thinks he has the upper hand?

“Bestial xenophobia? With creatures like you around, I think I am too friendly. You sent all your friends to death to go on living yourself - no pit in hell is too deep for you.”

“I had to!” the alien snapped. “I - we all - we had an aim! I was needed to keep rebellion alive, and I made a choice. A choice for the greater good - while you murdered for your own pleasure!"

“Oh and how does this decision feel now - all on your own? What was the name of that balmeran girl who held the door while you escaped and got shot in your place, Nikia? Do you ever dream of her? Of any of them you left behind on _your_ battlefield of _your_ pride and...”

“Do _you_ dream of your dead subordinates? The ones you sent into the battle with Voltron they could never win? Who could and would have lived, if they hadn’t followed you?”

They stared at each other, both panting. If Prorok could, he would have plunged his teeth into the alien’s throat, but all he could was sit and shake. The effort of shouting was too much for Tarrik, too - he sat back down, coughing again and gasping for air. They both stayed silent for a while, contemplating.

“Oh, I know!” Tarrik finally said, triumphantly. “It is this living corpse you are nursing that Ellik needs - they must pay good money to prolong his suffering in this world. How does it feel, being demoted to the emptier of your own secretary’s chamber pot?”

Prorok’s vision sharpened so suddenly that he would have felt nauseous, if he hadn’t been so enraged. He turned to Tarrik - oh yes, it was him, Prorok would have recognized the man anywhere - and saw each button on his worn-out jumpsuit, every purple vein around his old, wrinkly eyes, every leaf on the bush that they were sitting under. He grabbed the alien by the clothes on his chest and shook him - the old man was as light as children’s toy. He tried to push Prorok’s hand away, but the ex-Commander’s muscles were filled with the same mysterious strength as it happened right after his awakening, so he only shrieked.

“He’s not… a corpse,” Prorok exhaled, pressing his palm on Tarrik’s throat and shaking his so violently that his teeth chartered. “He lives... and will live… as long as I have… something to say about it.”

Tarrik’s head tilted with each movement, he wiggled, scratching Prorok’s wrist, someone came running towards them, but Prorok was already feeling his muscle weaken again, so he had no time to lose.

“ _You’re_ the corpse,” he said, leaning forward to look Tarrik deep in the eyes. “You’ve been dead a long time ago. You lost yourself and everyone around you, and those who you were fighting for did not even find you a proper hospital.”

A nurse and a security person approached them, so Prorok let go of Tarrik, stood up and pushed the wheelchair back in the direction of the hospital. One wheel got stuck again and ruined Prorok’s glorious exit. 


	13. Chapter 13

That evening, there was no pleasant chit-chat with Ellik.

“How could you - attacking a patient, getting physical! What were you thinking? We work so hard to set our differences apart, and you just… I cannot believe what I heard!”

“Are we, though?” Prorok answered sarcastically. “You are, obviously, but are the others trying, too? Is Tarrik?”

“Sir, you have to understand: Tarrik is an old man, change doesn't come easy in his age. All his life, he had to...” Ellik closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You are an old man,” Prorok interrupted. “Yet I don’t see you walking around, calling sick people living corpses.”

“Well, thank you for reminding me of my age, how very kind if you,” Ellik seemed offended, but Prorok didn’t intend to pay it attention.

“How can you treat those aliens who hunted your brothers? Those who supported them? Doesn't your conscience protest?”

“It is my duty as a medic to treat those in need of help,” the doctor answered with sternness Prorok rarely heard from him. “And I mean all of them. It has always been my priority, Commander, I am glad I can finally do what I consider the right thing.” 

“All of them? What about those who killed Galra? Those who made killing as many Galra as possible their lifelong ambition?”

Ellik frowned.

“You out of everyone know how unhappy I was with the imperial policy of denying aliens access to modern medical care. For millennia, we held keys to the most advanced knowledge in the universe, and we excluded everyone else from using it! Now though...“

Ellik really was unhappy to treat Galra exclusively - this topic had caused many difficult conversations between the Commander and his senior medic. Prorok had to really bend over backwards to accommodate the unruly doctor’s appetite for gathering more and more patients, while keeping it hidden from the Emperor. Though, honestly, Prorok used to think that Ellik’s eagerness to treat alien organisms was more due to his irrepressible research drive rather than altruism.

“He is a terrorist, Ellik,” Prorok yelled, out of patience. “All he did in life was finding better ways to kill Galra! All he still wants to do is kill more! Is it him you are giving the keys to?”

“Look, Commander, I really don’t blame you. Tarrik is unbearable, we all know that, I also want to punch him every time we speak. To come here and behave the way he does - the audacity! But he is a patient, and we have to provide him with the service his contract and our basic morals oblige us to. And as long as he is here, he is my responsibility, we have to treat him right - at least not beat him like he claims you did. Please try to avoid such incidents in the future."

Before, Prorok thought that if anyone except the Emperor would berate him this way, they would be dead before they can finish their sentence. Now, though, he found himsel staring at the opposite wall.

“I am sorry I caused you a scene," he finally answered gloomily. “I just… how can you all be so forgetful, that’s what I cannot comprehend. Maybe I am a relic of the war, but still. How did he become your responsibility? Couldn’t you just have said ‘no’ when he arrived?”

“Well, one could say that I was bribed,” Ellik smiled slyly. “Tarrik’s own people grew so tired of him that they paid Callum hospital really well in both credits and supplies to get him here. And if he helps me fund and further my hospital, he is welcome to stay.”

"What does his presence do to the morale to your employees? Was that one-time payment worth it for them? Surely I am not the only one who he attacked?"

"Actually, Sir, you were: our nurses managed to... No-no, I don't mean to say anything about you, he probably just recognized your rank and got bitter. But still, I don't think he is causing any noteworthy issues."

Again, they sat in silence for some time, Prorok feverishly contemplating possible answers. An open confrontation was not an option, and neither was a departure. Downplaying the conflict? No way.

“I refuse to communicate with him," Prorok said finally. "Your choices are yours to make, but I am not dealing with their consequences."

“Of course!” Ellik seemed relieved. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t wander around so much anymore and you two will never meet again. By the way, how did you manage to grab him, is he that weak?”

"I got really angry," Prorok answered shortly and left.

“I didn’t know Doctor Ellik sold his comrades for credits,” Prorok told Thace later that evening. “I wonder how expensive he estimated the lives of all the Galra this bastard killed. I bet you wouldn’t have compromised like that.”

Thace, well-fed, massaged and happy to be hugged, only mewled happily. He inhaled and exhaled into the fur on Prorok’s neck, the left, less scarred part of his face full of joy. Prorok thought that right now, Thace was the luckiest he could be in his state. All thanks to the unconditional kindness of the old doctor who did not hold grudges against traitors and those enabling them - and felt unwanted tears burn his nose from inside.

“I am getting really syrupy these days… Though, to be entirely honest, if I could help you heal, welcoming Tarrik in my house would be the least I would have done. Quiznak, I would even welcome him if he could disprove those lies about you being a Blade of Marmora!”


	14. Chapter 14

While Prorok was looking after Thace on Callum, Keith continued to lead the same life he had since the war had ended - conducting humanitarian missions as one of the Blades, if he was not spending time with other Paladins. He hadn’t seen Kolivan since they fought Prorok’s Ro-Beast, as he choose to leave immediately after the fight, not wanting to face another one of Galran militarists. And yet, he couldn’t forget Thace’s emaciated scarred shadow, locked away on an abandoned base. During another mission, after around two phoebs, he saw Kolivan head towards his ship alone - this was the time to speak up.

“Kolivan, wait! Wait, I need to talk to you.” Kolivan paused, but turned away immediately, about to continue walking. “I need to talk to you now. About Thace.”

Maybe an external observer wouldn’t have noticed a tiny twitch of Kolivan’s mouth, but Keith knew his leader well enough.

“I deserve to know. You cannot run away from me forever.”

“Fine,” Kolivan sighed. “We shall talk about Thace, if that is your wish. Come with me.”

They climbed into the jet, Kolivan habitually sank in the pilot’s chair, but did not start the engines. Keith took the co-pilot seat.

“What is unclear to you, Keith?” Kolivan asked, not looking at his younger companion.

“What is unclear to me? I live for years thinking that my savior is dead - and then I find him tucked away in a closet! I looked Thace in the eyes before flying off - and leaving him behind to die, covering my escape! He knew what would happen! How can you say he wasn’t a hero of Resistance! I talked to him! After he spent literal decaphoebs undercover!”

“I am glad that memories of your escape are so vivid in your mind. And still - what exactly is unclear to you in this situation, so that you need my input so urgently?”

Keith inhaled with a hiss - Kolivan’s manner of remaining especially cold in these situations always made him angrier.

“Why did you give Thace off to a former member of Zarkon’s army? ”

“I told you and the others - I saw recordings that made his treason quite clear.”

“Where are those recordings? I want to see them myself.”

“You cannot - they have been destroyed.”

“Destroyed? How convenient! You watched them - and then they what, conveniently vanished? Dissolved?”

Kolivan blinked slowly.

“I destroyed them. I got angry... and also feared that they might fall into wrong hands. They could cast a shadow on our other brothers - the faithful ones. You might not like it, but the decision to announce Thace’s presence openly is not for you to make, Keith. Don’t stare at me - you know that I am right. More than just his reputation is at stake. Besides - his accomplice did not even try to deny their affair, what other proof do you need?”

“I don’t trust Prorok, he would say anything to save his own skin. I know Thace is innocent and a faithful Blade.”

“You have no reliable sources of information, I fear. Unless Thace has woken up - which I don’t think has happened - no one can say for sure.”

“What do you mean - you don’t think? Don't you know for sure?”

“Thace’s accomplice had made contact with one of his ex-subordinates and who took both of them onto one of the planets - I did not stop them. Having them around was quite tedious.”

“Prorok has taken Thace somewhere and you don’t even know where? What if they kill him there?”

“No, why, I do know where he took him - the institution is called Callum General-Purpose Medical Center and is located on the planet with the same name. This is an actual hospital, listed in the GSI. The Galra sheltering them seems crafty enough, too - they submitted papers to make the Paladin Fund pay for Thace’s rehabilitation and hired his accomplice as his carer. According to the reports they are now obliged to provide, his condition seems to remain more or less stable.”

“I… I need to go there.”

Callum greeted Keith with a sticky, stinky heat wave. An overabundance of water made the air so moist it felt like an old damp washcloth stuck all over the Paladin’s face, and the omnipresent smell of rotting leaves made his stomach turn. The Callum Medical Center did not look particularly medical, it was a low yet big round building made of dark-yellow stone, with numerous small domes and balconies sticking to it. Eager to keep his arrival secret, Keith had landed the lion in the forest, away from the official parking spots, and had to walk well twenty minutes in the mud. By the time he got to the entrance hall, he was covered in it almost to his knees.

His own face greeted him: a huge picture of all of them together, including Allura, in paladin gear, was dominating the front wall of the entrance hall. The paladins were hailed here, but around himself, he only saw purple-skinned medical personnel. Not too keen on integrating alien races? 

“I would like to visit a patient, please,” he said to the receptionist, a round, fluffy middle-aged Galra. 

“Name,” she barked in a bored voice, without recognizing him.

“Ah… he is called Thace. I’m not sure he has more names.”

“ _ Your _ name,” the woman rolled her eyes. “And security number. What do you think, I’ll invite any loafer inside?” Keith pressed his teeth together - sometimes, this habitual Galra rudeness was getting on his nerves.

“My name is Keith Kogane. It’s two...” 

"K-a-i-h… No earthlings listed. Fine, let me look at the security number. Two, then what?"

"Nothing, just two. I was the second person to receive it."

The receptionist raised her head to look him in the face, squinted. Her eyes wandered left, onto the poster with the Paladins, then back onto Ketih’s face, and then she nearly fell off her chair with panic. Keith repeated his sentence without the glee he thought he would be feeling: 

“I would like to visit Thace, please.”

“Yes, Sir! I mean Paladin! Paladin, Sir! One tick!” the receptionist looked at him with completely round eyes, flopped down from her stool - her short legs did not reach the ground - and hurriedly led Keith into one of the corridors. 

“Such an honour, hi-hi! What a pleasure, hi-hi!” she kept repeating, nervously jumping like a ping-pong ball, giggling and nodding with every sentence. “Just here, Paladin, Sir! On the right, yes. Here, please! Thank you very much!”

Keith pushed the carved door - an old plate, but modern, quiet springs operating it - and entered a large, sunlit room. When he looked back to thank his guide, she had already disappeared. The Paladin shrugged: no need for her to escape, if someone would try to follow up on every rude Galran behavior in the Universe, Zarkon’s lifespan would seem too short. He looked around himself, surprised by a mixture of palace luxury and medical scarcity. Two large windows - plain metallic window blinds half-lowered to keep excessive heat out - each surrounded by two richly carved pillars. Floors in marble mosaic, but walls painted with low-class green paint. A standard hygiene corner around a big stone bowl on a thick leg, depicting flower motives… and a half-lifted medical bed.

“Thace!” Keith called, walking over toward the patient. This time he tried to keep his voice soothing to avoid scaring the patient.

Thace was sleeping peacefully, covered with a blanket to his nose, his head turned askew to prevent him from salivating. Keith tiptoed several more steps forward - no reaction. The sun was highlighting Thace’s eye sockets, from this angle he could have seemed almost healthy. Could have, if his cheek and chin hadn’t been a glossy, burnt lifeless piece of meat. Keith froze, searching and failing to find a familiar stoic, resolute expression. Nothing - just calmness and animalistic satisfaction. Though this was good, right? Better calmness than the suffering he saw on the same face a phoeb ago?

“Get away from him!” someone barked behind Keith. “Hands up!”

The paladin jumped, turning, and grabbed his hip, where his bayard should have been - empty, he had left the weapon in the Lion. Prorok was standing in the door frame, his body bent forward to attack, but the menace in his stance was greatly diminished by the fact that the only weapon he was holding was a child’s bottle with a white liquid in it. Thace behind Keith awoke and uttered a loud squeal.

“Two steps aside! Who are you? Who let you in?”

“I am Keith, the Black Paladin,” Keith yelled, trying to overshout Thace, and made a couple of steps to the right. “I mean no...”

“Stay where you are! And keep your hands off your belt!”

Prorok hurried towards the bed, but Keith saw that something was wrong - he waddled like an overgrown duck while walking. No Galran commander could have been so clumsy. Prorok bent down, looked screeching Thace in the face, then turned back to Keith.

“How did you get in? This is a dire patient, all visits must be agreed upon with his physician!”

“I… ah... the receptionist, she...” Keith had to seriously raise his voice.

“Look what you’ve done! Get out this instant, you are upsetting him!”

Keith wanted to say that Prorok was the one to provoke the fit, but arguing seemed impossible at the levels of screeching coming from Thace, so he nodded and obeyed. When closing the door, he looked back - Prorok was already bent over the bed. 

The paladin stood in the corridor for some time, looking out of the window into the hospital yard. A flock of Olkari kids were jumping in the far away corner, playing something that looked like hopscotch. A nurse, a Galra, was visibly strained to push a wheelchair with a Taujeerian in it. What was wrong with them was unclear, as their greenish grub-like body looked just the way it should have looked. Normally, Keith would climb out and offer help, but now he didn’t want to give Prorok an impression that he had escaped. Finally, the door behind him opened again.

“So, why did the Paladin himself honor us with his visit?”

“What is with Thace?”

“That is not a matter of your concern, but you should know that I had to give him sedative because of your unexpected visit.”

Now Thace could not hear them and Keith had no reason to hold back.

“You thought Ulaz was not good enough to treat him, you took him to another planet without permission, you came in yelling for no reason - wouldn’t you shut up about who is to blame for what?”

"I took him without permission? Whose permission? I am Thace’s legal guardian and representative, I don’t need anyone’s... permission! to make decisions. You, however, always need to ask me if you can see him. Next time I find you near his room, I’ll call security.”

“Since when are you anyone’s legal representative? You are hardly even legal yourself.”

“Since it says so in Thace’s papers. Papers that he didn’t even have until Doctor Ellik’s team took time to file them for us - talk about friendly care by you lot. So I am repeating my question - what did you want from him?”

Keith could, no doubt, start a proper fight. Like hit Prorok in the face right now. Or better, call the police, accuse him of kidnapping a sick person, insist on his unresolved legal issues, get the authorities involved. Dispute the papers, kick him out of here, or, more likely, be forced to move Thace somewhere else - local medics would no doubt support the ex-Commander. And then what? Keith had to deal with the aftermath of such fights on a daily basis. Besides, Prorok really did an outstanding job at keeping Thace healthy, this was visible at first glance...

“I don't want anything, I was visiting!” Keith exclaimed, raising his hands. “Why do you have to be that defensive? Thace saved my life - he had recognized my luxite sword, I owe him my life, why would I want to hurt him in any way? This Galran nest here is not doing your judgement any good.”

Keith expected an outburst of rage, but Prorok ignored his last words completely.

“Recognized your sword? When?"

"When we exploded the reactor together - though it was his achievement, really, I didn't know a thing about…"

"Why the sword and not your face? Were you helmeted?”

“My helmet’s front panel was clear,” Keith explained patiently, wondering why Prorok would pursue this topic among all the other possible ones. “But it's not that. Thace didn’t know I was a Blade. We - I mean us paladins - we joined the fight much later than he did, he was already in your fleet at this time.”

“Didn’t he receive the news about new recruits while he was in my fleet?”

“I… I don’t know, you need to ask Kolivan that. I think there were no communications between him and the Blades? Security reasons, probably? Weren’t you watching him?”

Prorok licked his lips.

“We need to talk. Come with me, Paladin.”

Well, that was an improvement. Prorook led Thace further along the corridor, into a small room, almost a closet, but with a window. A sink, a microwave, some cleaning utensils, some shelves. The ex-Commander clicked the lock closed after Keith. 

“This is a community kitchen, but the whole wing is empty, because the mass infection period is later in the year. No one is going to bother us here.”

“There are mass infections here, too? Why would you bring Thace to this swamp?”

They stared at each other for a tick, then Prorok sighed.

“Right, your Earth has dry air, I heard. Although you probably don’t like it here, this climate is very suitable for Thace, it alone cured his lung issues.”

“Did you take Thace here because of the climate?”

“I took Thace here because of Doctor Ellik and because we had no other options - aside from dying on your base, of course - but this is besides the point. So you are saying that Thace did not know that the Blades had recruited you as their new member? Isn’t this important enough news to share?”

“I told you, I don’t know: we were busy fighting Zarkon. Why does it interest you so much anyway?”

“Just making sure I understand what you are referring to,” Prorok said, now looking twice as energetic as five doboshes before. “So there was no information transfer from Kolivan to Thace while he was with my forces. What about the other way around, what data did you receive from him?”

“Nothing I know about. But he lifted the solar barrier to help us escape, and he detonated the central command center to cover my escape.”

“Ri-ight,” a deep wrinkle appeared between Prorok’s bushy eyebrows. “He did that, didn't he. When you were escaping, what happened?”

“Well, we defeated the druids - they have been following him, he got to the terminal first, they caught up with him and attacked. I helped fight them off, he recognized my blade. We wanted to overload the core reactor of the base, but he found the terminal operating it to be too well-protected to get inside its programming. Then he started rewiring it to explode it and told me to leave - I didn’t understand what he was doing at first. Then he said...” Keith had to swallow, he got more agitated than he would have preferred to. “He said - ‘this is where my journey ends; but you, as a Paladin, you have a bigger mission’. I still remember each word. He urged me to leave, to leave him behind; he knew that without my Lion, Voltron’s fight was over. He chose to stay behind, willingly… His death was a pillar supporting our victory, Prorok; I’ll never forget his sacrifice, none of us will! He… I don’t think I met another such selfless, brave person in my life. He didn’t want anything for himself, only for our cause to win - you should know this if you were ever any close.”

Prorok remained silent, but was looking at Keith quite differently now.

“I know you consider me an enemy,” Keith continued, “and you can think whatever you want, frankly, I don’t give a damn - but it is quite unfortunate that such a narrow-minded person calls himself Thace’s legal guardian. You are denying him friendly support and help. And if he needs something, all you need is to call any of us and I’ll...”

“He does need help,” Prorok interrupted.

“Ah?” Keith wanted the ex-Commander to listen to his words, but was not ready for such a drastic change in mood.

“He needs help,” Prorok repeated. “From someone who knows how to wield quintessence. I just realized - you Paladins know how to do that, and you are still alive. I should have thought of you earlier! You need to check what is poisoning him, it must have something to do with quintessence.”

“I don’t know how to wield quintessence,” Keith answered, taken aback. “Princess Allura did, and Haggar, and before them King Alfor - but why me?”

“You piloted the whole two Beasts, and His Majesty had always emphasized how the Black Beast was a creature made of quintessence! How could you fly it if you cannot use quintessence?”

“It’s different. You hear the Lion’s call, and then it is a question of synchronizing with it and with your teammates. But it has nothing to do with dealing with the actual thing... Only Altean alchemists can do that - oh, by the way, Lotor could, too.”

“He is dead,” Prorok’s voice was bitter now. “How convenient.”

“Why does Thace need a quintessence wielder anyway?”

“He had been poisoned, but not with a substance that can be found with common tests. Doctor Ellik has been trying to find the poison…”

“Maybe Doctor Ellik is less qualified than you think? Should I ask Ulaz to...”

Prorok gave him a stare icy enough to freeze the ground under him.

“You clearly have zero knowledge in medicine, or you wouldn’t have said such nonsense. Doctor Ellik’s qualification is beyond anything your companions could ever achieve, and he also asked other laboratories to double-check his results. It stands to reason that dark quintessence has been the cause of Thace’s health issues. If it is not removed, so Ellik's prognosis, Thace will soon die.”

“Wh-how - die?”

“The literal way. I can show you his readings if you don’t believe me. Someone who understands quintessence needs to examine him and decide what can be done.”

“But there are no altean alchemists left!”

“I know! There are surviving alteans, though? If you cannot help, can you at least convince them to try?”

“Alteans have an innate ability to store quintessence in their bodies, yes, but not the ability to wield it. They are batteries, if you want, not the motors. To use quintessence, they would need training, but there is no one to train them.”

“Think, Paladin,” Prorok was glaring at Keith now. “Who else? Maybe the Green Paladin? How did she unfold the space back?”

“This was not a quintessence-based technology, and we destroyed your Ro-Beast by force of regular arms. I can ask her, though.” A bracelet on Prorok’s wrist vibrated, interrupting Keith. “What is it?”

“Thace’s physiotherapy session is soon. I need to go oversee it - it won’t be easy with the sedative. Think, Paladin. If we don’t find a solution, Thace will not be with us for long.”


	15. Chapter 15

The Paladin’s visit set Prorok’s schedule, fixed to a degree of being ritualistic, upside down. At first, the ex-Commander kept clutching his communicator, waiting for a message to arrive, and started waking up several times a night to check for missed calls. Nothing came. Prorok had replayed the conversation at least a hundred times in his head, over and over again. Scolding himself for being too aggressive, then for not being pushy enough, for being too straightforward, for not asking enough questions…

“It’s a good thing that you managed to make friends with a Paladin, though,” he told Thace. “Very useful indeed. You’ve got a nose for useful people, don’t you, you cunning fox?”

The “cunning fox” sighed in his arms, unaware of what he was being called. His state started deteriorating lately, but if it was a result of Keith’s visit, an extra dose of sedative, or just an unrelated issue, the ex-Commander could not tell. 

Prorok also recited the conversation with the Paladin word-by-word to Ellik, but the doctor showed unexpected scepticism.

“The Paladins are the conscience and the honor of the society,” he said in a very dry, official voice that left no doubts that he considered the five earthlings and the deceased altean princess neither honorable nor particularly conscientious. “Mere mortals - and you belong to them now, too, Commander - are safer far away from their glorious pursuit... Besides, didn’t you think that they were lying to us about Thace’s past?”

“Who cares what they were lying about. He might have the power to help Thace,” Prorok countered. “The power mere mortals don’t possess. If Thace wakes up, he will clear any accusations off on his own.” 

The doctor only shook his head reproachfully.

Finally, after a movement, a message came. Prorok opened it with shaking hands:

“I talked with Pidge and with the Alteans. After all rifts were sealed off, the only remaining source of quintessence in our universe are the Balmeras.”

“But they are only producing crystals,” Prorok typed. He wanted to put a question mark at the end, but couldn’t find it.

“Yes, while they are dormant. But if taken care of, they can wake up and release a quintessence wave. They then start moving and produce offspring. The Balmerans and Alteans are now trying to heal one that is really close to Callum.” The coordinates followed.

“Useless, you and yours suggestions alike” - that’s what Prorok wanted to yell, “what am I supposed to do with this information?” Instead he typed: “Is it awake?”

“No,” the answer came. Then, after a dobosh, another message: “I will ask them if they can help and contact you again later.”

He did not get in touch next movement, or the one after that. Prorok first waited, doing his usual care routine with Thace, then waited some more, and then realized that the Paladin would never write. What was he hoping for, really? No Balmera had ever healed anyone - otherwise Haggar wouldn’t have let them be mined empty. Or maybe the Paladin forgot: what is Thace’s life to him, in comparison to the state affair he now had on his hands? Prorok knew all too well how sudden power can get into someone’s head. He saw too many young Commanders being promoted too fast, only to perish within mere decaphoebs, their own grandiose illusions being their downfall. But Thace had no time to wait for Keith to come to his senses, so Prorok had to act alone.

He found the contact number of the coordination center of the Balmera Rescue Program and asked Ellik to write a summary of Thace’s health issues. The next two movements he spent persuading the administrative department to do their job and send an official request were tedious enough, but at least it wasn’t the torturous helpless waiting. Prorok kept appearing on their floor twice daily, gathered evidence of the slow progress, demanded, complained, flattered, scolded, appealed to their conscience, threatened to tell Ellik, and endured their hissy fits. It almost felt as if he was back in his lieutenant days, gathering provisions for his squadron down there in the jungle. At last, the request went off… and the sick waiting resumed.

Three more phoebs passed by, the height of summer with its heat was over. During the day, the air was still warm, but when Prorok would wake up in the early mornings to check on Thace, he would start shivering and needed to put a robe on. Evenings got longer, it rained more and more often. Ellik put a huge calendar on the wall in his office and started emergency readiness training among the personnel.

“The autumn is nearing,” he told Prorok one evening, blowing on his hot rum. “Rains provoke mudflows that destroy houses, so the locals gather in surviving villages and spread diseases. Rains also favor mass hatching of mosquitoes that carry those infections further. The same quiznaking rains destroy roads, too, so we can only reach affected areas on helicopters.”

“Why doesn’t the government invest in building rainproof architectures?”

“Oh the government...” Ellik curled his lips reproachfully. “The governor is such a stealing rat. I don’t think he cares about rainproof architectures at all. It is actual work, you know, unlike holding speeches about the glorious future of the planet now that we Galran leeches are not sucking their blood out.”

“Why does he get reelected then?”

“What am I, a political observer?” Ellik rolled his eyes. “I never voted for him. Anyway, this means that we medics will be out in the fields for most of the autumn. We will lack nurses to look for existing patients, so in preparation, we will load the healing pods to maximum usage ratio to let everyone through them who can be helped. You two will stay here, but I won’t be there constantly for you like I was before. Thace is stable now, so nothing should happen… If anything, you’ll need to call me and wait for me to arrive. It might take up to half a quintant.”

“I would really rather have you closer, Doctor. Could you maybe stay behind?”

“Stay behind for one stable patient, while hundreds of others will be vomiting to death under open sky without help? No, Commander, I can not. Just hold the fort for me, would you?”


	16. Chapter 16

After the first movement of rains, the infections started spreading like predicted and most of the doctors and nurses left. The hospital now looked sad and empty, and Prorok was the one to turn on the lights when waking up in the morning. Sometimes he did not, then the halls on their floor remained dark until the next day. 

Sensing the change in the weather, Thace became lethargic. He now slept day and night, Prorok could hardly wake him up to feed him. There were no more smiles, no happy sounds; the yellow eye hardly ever opened to stare into the ceiling. 

The Balmera answered, but in a way that was worse than silence. Two formal replies came - one from Balmerans, one from the Altean squad. Both expressed their condolences in most polite terms, but claimed utter inability to help in any way. The last hope to turn back the course of Thace’s sickness was vanishing. The Paladin did not contact Prorok either.

At the beginning, the ex-Commander tried fighting the gloom. He often went downstairs to chat with the remaining two nurses taking care of the patients who could not be healed in time; he tried talking to Thace more, but the stiff, unresponsive body in his arms scared him too much. Quintant after quintant, it got more difficult for Prorok to get out of bed, to comb his sideburns, to do the dishes properly. A grey mist of indifference covered the world. He started taking long “naps” during the day, but he could not sleep properly and would just lie there, staring at the wall. At some point, he poured the new portion of porridge into an already used bottle and did not even feel ashamed for doing it. Why bother?

This was how Ellik found him when he returned home during a breather period between two rain storms.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Prorok murmured, trying to push all the dirty linen into the washing machine at once. He had an especially sleepless and nightmare-filled night, so even though he was happy to have Ellik back, he was not in the mood for long conversations. “The usual. Thace is sleeping, he is a lot these days. You should go home, take some rest before the next rain wave hits.”

“What happened to _you_?” 

“Me? Nothing particular. Why?” Prorok pushed the last corner of the last duvet cover inside, closed the door and stood up. “Thace is sleeping too much, Doctor, I don’t think this is a good sign at all. And the Balmerans answered - they are unable to help.”

The Doctor silently wrapped his goatee around his finger and pulled on it as hard as if he wanted to get rid of it. The washing room was narrow and he was standing really close to Prorok, so the ex-Commander could make out his cologne mixed with the smell of ashes and all-purpose disinfectant, among the chemical grassy scent of the washing concentrate hanging in the air. 

“You have been sleeping in a tent, haven’t you?” Prorok snickered. “Now your fur will smell like burnt logs for ages. I can recommend using...”

“This is not your best attempt to change the topic, Sir. I will look at Thace later today, but…”

“It’s alright, you need to rest first.”

"...but he will not recover. I thought you were aware of that."

Ellik’s voice was quiet, but Prorok shivered.

"I still thought maybe we were missing something."

"Thace is my most well-examined patient in the last decade. We did not miss anything."

There was a long silence.

"It is really hard to say how long he has, but, I am afraid, not more than a decaphoeb. Commander, we talked about this - I thought you came to terms with his death. After all, we will all die sooner or later."

Silence again: there were too many things Prorok wanted to say, but none of them were quite right.

"Apparently, I didn't come to terms with anything," Prorok finally managed. “Or maybe I didn’t think about it so much while you were around.”

"You need to contact your friends more, Commander."

“What friends?” Prorok smiled weakly. “You are the only one left.”

“What about Hakor?”

“What… what about her?”

“Well, call her! She used to be such a fangirl of yours, I bet she would be ecstatic to see you.”

Prorok opened and closed his mouth, then giggled.

“Do you want me to use an ouija board for that, Doctor, or have they invented modern ways?”

“Why ouijia? Just call her!”

Prorok grabbed the softly vibrating edge of the washing machine to make sure he was not hallucinating.

“Are you saying… Hakor is… alive?”

“Well of course she is! What’s wrong, Commander, are you feeling alright?”

“I was told that she had died! Quiznaking moron… I mean - Paladin! The Paladin must have mistyped her number! But you - you knew that Hakor was alive and kept it a secret from me?!”

He barked the last phrase, Ellik raised his eyebrows.

“Kept secret? I thought you knew! And I was wondering why you wouldn’t try to reach out to her.”

“Of course I would reach out to her! Where is she? The database said she was dead! Who else is alive that you know of?”

“Uh… no one from our party group, I’m afraid. Hakor would be overjoyed, though. She isn’t the friendliest when I call her, but I am sure that you are a completely different case.”

“How is she? Where does she live?” 

“She is quite well, actually, she is still piloting - commercial ships now, not the jet. Still, it means something - almost no one except for medics was allowed to keep their military specialization after the war, but she somehow managed to.”

“Goodness, she is alive! I’ll talk to her - do you know her number?”

“Sure, let me send it to you,” Ellik smiled. “Say hello from me when you two meet.”


	17. Chapter 17

Prorok called Hakor immediately after he got to his communicator. She did not answer at first, but he repeated the next morning and got connected. In contrast to Ellik’s description, Hakor did not look well at all. She accepted the call from the cockpit of her ship, so Prorok could only see her face and neck, but even so, he noticed that her head was not sitting right on her shoulders. She did not show any particular joy to see him, or any surprise at his return, and refused to talk much while on course. Still, after first doubting if it was a good idea to meet, she consulted her duty plan and decided to stop by on Callum in three quintants. 

Prorok saw Ellik off to the emergency camp and spent the remaining quintants pacing in circles, frantically trying to do something for Thace, but failing at everything. He had redirected the hospital ship dispatcher system notification to his communicator, so when he heard a double whistle, he rushed down without even taking an umbrella.

Hakor had left her enormous transport barge for unloading in the docs orbiting Callum and arrived at the hospital in an old military mini-pod, repainted green instead of its original grey and purple, but still clearly recognizable for its shape. The exit of the pod was rebuilt to an alternative design, so Prorok knew what had happened to her before the heavy round door slid to the side. A quick thought - at least the parking spot was roofed and the rain was not pouring on them, adding more discomfort to this situation - and the door was completely open. The ex-Commander swallowed down the uncertainty, made a step forward and smiled to his ex-ace pilot as broadly as he could.

“It is so nice to see you again, Hakor! Thank you for coming! I made some food, would you like to come inside? We have...”

She steered her wheelchair down the ramp and towards him and looked up, skinny and dishevelled like an old sick bird. She looked all broken and wrongly reassembled, her spine bent like a twig and re-grown this way, the neck almost nonexistent, one shoulder glued to her jaw while another hung low. Her hair, one that Prorok remembered being glossy, coloured and skillfully braided into complicated patterns, was now dry and spiky, gathered in a messy bun at the top of her head.

“You don’t actually see me, do you?” she interrupted him. “Yes, I had heard the news: you're blind and as good as imprisoned here, while dearest Thacey is about to kick the bucket. Serves you two right, though. It is a good price for hooking up with that sad excuse of a secretary and blowing your entire fleet as a result.”

Well, he should have expected something like that - Hakor had always been the kind of person to speak her mind very directly. At least her personality has not changed.

“Actually, thanks to the Doctor, I do see - he probably called you a while ago last time, there have been improvements lately. And Elders know how happy I am to see  _ you _ alive! Would you like to come in?”

“Not going to say anything about the actual topic?”

Prorok sighed.

“How did you find out about me and Thace?”

“I always knew! I saw you drool over him since day one, Commander Well-Done-Lieutenant-Keep-Up-The-Good-Work! And then you two got very… satiated out of nowhere. What was there not to know?”

So obvious… Prorok tried to breathe through the burning shame, but failed to calm himself down.

“Who else knew? Ellik didn't.”

“Ellik is too moral to even think of that.” Hakor sneered. “So conscientious and fair. How could he even imagine that his 'honored Commander, don’t speak ill of him’ would think with his lower head instead of the upper one.“

It was a slap in the face, Hakor’s grinning face flowed in front of Prorok’s eyes, clear one tick and blurry the other one. What to do? Prorok had been so overjoyed to find Hakor alive, so mellowed down by Ellik’s team’s respect and unconditional support, that he had not prepared any words for this turn of events. For the most probable turn of events, as he had just realized!

“I was wrong: it is a good thing to see you again,” Prorok didn't answer, so Hakor went on, panting - the ex-Commander couldn’t quite tell if with joy or exhaustion. “Look into your shameless eyes. Ask your dirty soul how it feels… How does it feel, non-Commander Prorok? What is it like, living, while all of them are dead? As the single biggest, most shameful failure?”

Prorok could find so many cruel comebacks and intricate justifications - but this was Hakor. Hakor, the star of his fleet, his glorious rule breaker… his friend.

“If you think you are telling me something that I had not already told myself a thousand times over, then you are wrong,” he said quietly. “But If you think you can surprise me with more accusations, go ahead and try it.”

Hakor studied his face for some time. Prorok shuffled his weak, heavy feet, but also kept quiet. He had opted for less talking and more listening: better let her pour everything out at the beginning and know what she has to say.

“How dare you burden Ellik with your presence?” Hakor spat out finally. “You brought the murderer of his friends right under his nose - does he deserve that? Why don’t you respect his right to mourn his fallen friends in peace? He is too nice to throw you out, but where is your own conscience?”

“Thace needs…” Prorok started without thinking, and understood his mistake just half a tick after the name slid off his tongue.

“Thace?!” Hakor snapped, leaning forward in her chair. “Thace?! Quiznacking Thace still dares  _ need _ something? All he needs is to finally  _ die _ !”

She didn’t finish, because Prorok made a step towards her, blocking her wheelchair.

“Just you dare say that one more time,” he hissed, looking into her face that was clear once again.

“What, you two are still together?” Hakor laughed out. “Two traitorous lovebirds - you still enjoy each other’s company?”

“Thace did not betray us! All he did after my death was out of desperation, out of falsely implemented wish to avenge me! He used to spend nights trying to get funds for the improvements you and Yilvik demanded, you ungrateful moron! Don’t ever call him traitor in my presence! Besides, the fact that I am even alive and here is because...”

“Is there really nothing he can do to appall you?” Hakor screeched. “He planned it from the very beginning! He was _a_ _Blade_ , Prorok, a Blade of Marmora! They sent him to you with a mission to seduce you! He probably had trained all the lovey scenes with his mentor in advance! Got advice on how to infiltrate your bedroom and your mind! What did they even teach him to do, suck like an industrial vacuum cleaner? Shove his tongue so far up your...”

Prorok could listen to her insulting him, but now all stoppers were gone. He grabbed her by the clothes - she was small and light like a doll - and shook her so violently that her head tilted back - just like Tarrik back then.

“Shut up,” he barked. “Shut your filthy mouth! l won’t let you say one more word about him!”

Still, she was not Tarrik, so his anger vanished as quickly as it came. He pushed her back into her chair and turned away. Rage-induced strength was vanishing, leaving his muscles aching and knees shaking. Behind him, Hakor fumbled around herself, probably trying to settle comfortably once again, making strange slurping sounds. Prorok was already regretting his outburst, so he turned back to help.

Hakor has not tried to settle better. Instead, she had pulled out a small purse and was now searching through it with shaking hands. The pervasive stench of chewing tar reached Prorok’s nose. Hakor finally found what she was looking for, tore off a generous piece and struggled to push it into her mouth that wouldn’t open properly. Her saliva was flowing so much that she had to suck it in, hence the noises Prorok heard.

“What are you doing?” the ex-Commander asked, too taken aback to be angry anymore. “How… But you are flying a huge ship, you’ll be intoxicated! How will you…”

”Doesn-n… n-m… matter,” Hakor slurped, chewing all the strength left in her jaws. “I could fl… hic!.. fly it with my eyes closed. I… um… mnom… need to calm do... hic!..down.”

Prorok knew enough about tar to see that this was not the relatively harmless recreational variant that only started to smell after it was properly chewed. This was the serious, concentrated stuff. Hakor laughed out again.

“The ship flies itself,” she continued, her speech slurred with frantic chewing. “Like you’ve never been in such a leviathan! An autopilot for taking off, and a separate one for landing. Pre-computed routes, operators guiding you in and out of the atmosphere. I could die there and the ship would still land safely, no one would care. No one ever does these days… No one would care if I died on the ground, either - they’ll find another Galra who will work for food!”

She hunched in her wheelchair, hands crumpling the tar purse. She had hardly started chewing the first piece, when she already tore a second one off.

“Hakor, that’s too much, stop,” Prorok said as softly as he could, took the purse from her fingers and hid it in his back pocket. Hakor did not resist and did not look up at him anymore, ignorant to everything around her. With a grunt, Prorok sank on one knee in front of the wheelchair to be able to look her in the face, but he lost his balance and had to kneel completely.

“Hakor…” he started, now looking up at her.

“How could you?” she looked him in the face once again, her eyes tearing now. Inflamed, swollen, wet eyes of a sleepless, overworked person, whose body and mind were fighting at their limit. “We trusted you, all of us, every single one! We relied on your judgement! Where were your eyes? How could you miss a Blade of Marmora in your own cockpit? In your own bed?“

The intense pain in her voice hurt Prorok a thousand times worse than any aggression - guilt and shame tugged on his insides.

“He was not trying to harm us, Hakor,” he whispered. “He was faithful, he was a good Galra. If I ever could believe myself, if I ever had any sort of insight for people, Thace was no saboteur! He was working thoroughly - or I am a senile idiot.”

“Then you are a senile idiot,” Hakor interrupted Prorok with visible pleasure, but he waved her words off. 

“Maybe at the very end, after the battle with Voltron, and even then I am not sure. And also why… But I am telling you, Thace was no saboteur, all the time we knew him and trusted him - he was no saboteur!”

She grabbed his shoulder, pulling him closer to herself. He felt the stench of tar coming from her, mixed with that of rotten teeth, machine oil, unwashed fur, and something medical. Now that their faces were so close that he noticed that her eyelashes fell out almost completely.

“Useless fool,” she hissed, her eyes hateful again. “‘I trust him, he was no caboteur…’ You enabled him, how dare you recite your excuses in my face? I almost died because of you two! My jet was crumpled like a paper ball! My husband burnt alive, trying to get our children toi safety - and he failed. Both our sons are dead! And all of their school friends, and all of our neighbours, everyone! Everyone! Because I was unconscious in the hospital and did not smuggle them out of there in time, because warlord Raht came and bombarded our planet, because there was no Zarkon to hold Raht in his place - because instead, there was the wretched Voltron that you! You personally! Failed to apprehend! Because of your blind love for Thace!”

Hakor shouted the last phrases out and sobbed. Prorok opened his mouth to console her, but words were stuck in his throat. What comfort could he offer her, after all her losses? Hakor kept staring at him, her lips twitching.

“It is not your fault, Hakor,” Prorok managed. “For not having saved them. Don’t punish yourself for what was out of your reach.” Hakor still kept staring, so Prorok added: “And I am so, so sorry for what happened to your family!”

“Empty words! I want my family back, Prorok. Give them back to me!” Hakor moaned. “Do something, you always could find ways to make things right! Return them to me, and I’ll do anything, I swear, I’ll even be friendly to Thace - just give them back!”

Now she looked insane, her burning, watering eyes fixated on Prorok. She blinked, tears escaped her swollen eyelids and started running down her cheeks. 

“They loved you,” Prorok started, taking one of her hands and sliding his palm up her other arm. “They always loved you so much, all three of them. But this is no reason to die together with them. You live, you have friends - me and Ellik at least, and I am sure there are more. We love you, we need you - I love and need you, Hakor, stop poisoning yourself with this junk! I’m here to help you, tell me...”

“If you cannot give them back, then die,” Hakor interrupted him, pushing his hand away. “Die and take your lapdog with you. This is the best thing you two can do right now.”

She let go of his shoulder, turned the wheelchair around, almost running him over, and steered back to her pod. Prorok tried to hold her back, but she hit him on the fingers and he let go, still kneeling on the ground.

“I also know what dying feels like,” he told, staring into her back. “I know what it feels like being reduced to a couple of primitive instincts - not even mine, those of the animal part of my body - and then being returned back to life as a helpless shadow of oneself. How to live when everyone I knew is dead, the state I spent my life upholding vanished. Do you think Ellik is the only one who mourns all our fallen comrades?”

“Everyone you knew fell because of you,” Hakor answered, making a small stop before steering up the ramp. “Your lover opened the solar barrier. You were a Commander, not missing a spy in your ranks was your literal duty. I flew on command and shot, Yilvik made sure that my canon worked, and you… what did you do exactly? You let Voltron escape once, made his Majesty suspicious of you, failed to negotiate advantageous battle conditions for your fleet. You commanded us badly, Prorok.”

Prorok was now shaking so violently that his teeth were chattering.

“You don’t mean that, Hakor. You don’t - not seriously - don’t mean that. Voltron was just an overwhelming force that we all underestimated.”

“And whose job was it to estimate Voltron’s force correctly if not yours?”

“His Majesty, he told us… Fine, blame me for the lost battle. But Thace is dying, Hakor. I know what it feels like, seeing your beloved one weaken a little more every day and not being able to do anything about it," Prorok said with desperation. “Whatever you do, they suffer more and more, and will die and you cannot help no matter how you try. I cannot watch it alone anymore. Hakor, please stay. When you leave, where will you go? To your bosses who overwork you? To all those other pilots who only wait for your death to take your place? Me and Ellik are your friends, let us sit together like we used to, please!”

Hakor didn't answer, struggling to roll up the ramp.

“I need your, Hakor!” Prorok exclaimed. “Weren’t we friends? Tell me what you have been up to since the fight, tell me about your family! You think I am to blame - fine, blame me, just don’t leave!”

She did not answer: she managed to roll up and through the entrance. The automatic door closed, the ramp pulled itself inside, the pod spit out a cloud of smoke, steered left and up and disappeared behind the thick clouds. 

Prorok kept staring at the place where it was standing for some time, half-desperate, but half still hoping that, by some miracle, she would return. Nothing - the cement-covered ground was empty. Prorok clenched his jaws to force himself to shiver less, got up heavily, grunting. Despite all attempts, he was shaking as if he was in the middle of neikarian winter.

“Maybe you are right and we did deserve this,” he said to the stain of motor liquid where Hakor’s pod was just standing. “I failed you and the others. But I won’t let you harm yourself. I need to tell Ellik about your tar abuse.”


	18. Chapter 18

After Hakor had left, Prorok returned into his and Thace's room lightheaded with grief, guilt and humiliation. Thace was awake and cooed something undistinguishable when he heard his carer enter. 

“I need to reach Ellik,” Prorok told himself aloud, because his thoughts were in such disarray that he feared that he might forget why he came here. He found the communicator and dialed the Doctor - no answer came. Prorok looked at the time - it was already night in Ellik’s camp, they were probably all sleeping. Prorok hesitated - he did not know anyone except Ellik well enough to be sure that disclosing Hakor’s problem to them would not hurt her. He dialed Ellik again. “Come on, Doctor, pick up,” he hissed, but no answer came. Prorok dropped the communicator maybe a little too harshly, and the sound scared Thace, who uttered a panicked screech. Prorok had to bite his lip to prevent himself from snarling.

“Traitor,” Prorok said, turning away to avoid seeing even the tiniest piece of the bed. The hatred that Hakor poured on him seemed to have spread until the very tips of his fingers. “Murderer. Why deny it - it was your doing. Why am I even trying to shield you? You lied to me. You opened the barrier. You as good as killed her - all of them, in vain. If we had won, she would have been honored as a war veteran, her family would have been honored! We had an agreement, we knew what would happen if we fell in battle - and you broke it! Was fun breaking the evil Empire, wasn't it?" Prorok started pacing towards the balcony and back. "Well, now the ‘free state’ that you have been fighting for doesn't offer her a retirement plan! Your democratically elected governors accept bribes and then the two-hundred-decaphoeb-old Doctor Ellik lives in a wet tent, trying to fix what they should have prevented in the first place! You Marmoras, you moles and tapeworms, you devoured our state from the inside!”

Thace coughed and burbled. Prorok felt no usual compassion, though - anger that was flooding him required a venting hole.

“You're not a victim here: you had a quiznaking choice! You could have confessed to me! You knew I loved you, you were never desperate, you had… Doesn't matter, you made your choice, so be so kind as to shut up.” Thace behind him was slurping and coughing slightly, but the ex-Commander chose to not pay him any attention. “I hate you. How did I miss you, how could I, how?”

Prorok finally turned back towards the room and froze. Thace's head had tilted right and forward; thick black liquid was pouring out of his mouth and through the hole in his cheek, it already soaked the clothes on his chest. Prorok saw blood so many times in his life, but it took him a step forward and several ticks to recognize it. Thace was too weak to even cough properly, so he was just twitching slightly at each cramp, uttering the slurping that Prorok heard earlier. Breathless, desoriented like in an odd nightmare, Prorok dropped on his knees near the recliner, shifted Thace more to the side to prevent him from suffocating and looked into his face better only to find him yellowish grey instead of purple in color.

“Thace, what's… what happ… no, no, why now…”

Feeling a familiar touch, Thace coughed and tried to screech, but the sound that escaped him was hardly louder than Prorok's usual speaking voice. The short time Prorok spent arguing with Hakor weakened him so much that Prorok hardly recognized him. “Finally, his lungs will give in and decompose,” Ellik had told him earlier. “Then it is the end. We have machines to aid lung ventilation, but there will be nothing to ventilate.” 

Prorok sucked the air in through his teeth, crumpled Thace’s blanket helplessly: he had no idea how to stop such a massive bleeding or attach Thace to a ventilation machine without a professional help. With Ellik on the other side of the planet, there was no way he could come back quickly enough to help, and the remaining nurses were stupid and useless. And even if Ellik came, the only thing he would do was prolong the agony for a couple movements. For a terrible dobosh, Prorok sat there, frozen, paralyzed with icy guilt, believing that his accusational speech was what killed Thace. Before, he had still subconsciously hoped for something to happen, some miracle to save his lover. Now, he understood with full devastating clarity that there would be no miracle.

Like it already happened in the most direst situations, Prorok's inner vision narrowed completely. Hakor and her accusations, the Blade of Marmora, politics - it all stopped mattering, he found himself in a tunnel with a single aim: keep Thace alive at all costs. His thoughts became fragmented. 

_ Ellik and doctors were away, so he could only rely on himself.  _

_ “Poisoned quintessence”, Kolivan said.  _

_ There were no Altean alchemists to help.  _

_ The only source of quintessence were now the Balmeras.  _

_ There was one Balmera in their quadrant. _

_ The one about to be reawakened. _

Prorok had no idea how the ever-sleeping beast would even be helpful, but he sensed a chance, no matter how slim, and was willing to chase it. He got up, rushed towards the medical kit, injected the twitching and coughing Thace with a mix of blood coagulant, hormonal cocktail for heart stimulation and the sedative. Their respective toxicities stopped mattering: if Prorok's venture was to fail, Thace would die anyway. He removed all the IVs, warm packs and blankets, and carried Thace over into the wheelchair; then he looked outside into the corridor: dark and empty, no one would see them escape.

What happened felt like a single sprint, though, in reality, it must have been much slower and more awkward. He steered Thace out of the room and along the corridor, twitching at every sound. The elevator took forever, so when the doors finally opened, he dashed out of it with everything he could give. Stumbling, he pushed Thace down the two nasty stairs onto the yard and headed back to where he just was, towards the smallest ship landing ground - he had to get through there to get to the bigger ships that had enough engine power to get them off-planet and to the Balmera. In the bright lights of the shipyard, he saw that Thace’s mouth was still all black with blood. He again started running, leaning on the wheelchair to keep his balance. The old thing, unsuited for such workload, squeaked mercilessly and its wheels threatened to fall off with each step. Prorok’s feet were as heavy as if they were made of lead, while his soft rubbery knees could give in anytime. Another dobosh filled with heart pounding in Prorok’s ears, and they reached the larger landing docs. There, the ex-Commander steered Thace behind a corner and looked around it, panting with exertion. Strenuous run made the picture in front of his eyes go blurrier than usual, but he still saw a solitary guard on the field right under the lantern. Prorok shifted his weight onto the wall: things were worse than he expected. Even a single adversary, even the weakest one, was more than Prorok could take in his current state. And he couldn’t outrun anyone even without Thace, let alone with the wheelchair. If only the guard would leave… Prorok looked out again - the Galra pulled a bag with crackers out of his pocket and was now chewing, staring senselessly in front of himself. He was standing with his back towards Prorok…

When Thace later asked him how he found strength and courage to do it, Prorok could never quite tell. But that evening, he was not the confused, flabby Prorok he used to be during last phoebs: the military leader was back. Trying not to pant too loudly, he knelt before the wheelchair, leaned it back onto the wall and shook the wheel axle of the front wheels. Thace’s limp body shook together with the chair, but Prorok did not allow himself from to look at him to avoid softening down. The metal bar bent, rattling, but didn’t yield. Prorok closed his eyes and tried remembering Kolivan and Tarrik.

_ “Imperial scum” _

_ “Living corpse” _

_ “About to kick the bucket” _

_ "Your 'boy' has been lying to you”  _

_ “Expendable living garbage" _

_ Thace’s bedsores _

_ “Shove his tongue so far up your ass...” _

When Prorok reopened his eyes, the world looked clear and sharp around him. He jerked the axis once again, and it yielded. Prorok straightened himself, threw the metal stick from one hand into another, his muscles full of shaky transient strength.

He slid from around the corner, silent like a ghost - or so it seemed to him after having stumbled for so long - and went straight for the last vertebra that connected the guard’s skull to his neck. One blow was enough to knock the unsuspecting guy out. Prorok went around his body (no time to check on him), hastily pulled Thace out of the motionless wheelchair and threw him onto his shoulder like a sack with food - no time for pleasantries, either. Ellik’s private jet was there among others. Prorok climbed in it, still strong and agile, but already feeling the familiar weakness spread from the neck downwards. He dropped Thace into the navigator chair, fastened the seatbelts around him, and sank in front of the controls. Now began the most complicated part : he had no idea what kind of security codes were now in use. With shaking fingers, he entered his old all-purpose secret key and held his breath - if this was to fail, he had very little options left. The engine purring made Prorok explode in giggling: these sorry excuses of governors still hadn’t abandoned the imperial security protocols! From now on, everything was easy: Prorok set the engine to maximum heat mode and switched to free range search. It didn’t take him long to find the Balmera, so he buckled himself up, too, engaged the autopilot and leaned back, waiting for the dive overload to lessen.

After the unprecedented strain, the weakness was back: the controls blurred together in front of Prorok’s eyes and his hands shook. At his right, Thace was quietly whining in his medically induced sleep. Prorok turned to him, felt his face and chest. He was all wet, but Prorok couldn’t quite tell if it was blood, saliva or something else. With the toxic sedative and such rough handling, he could have died any time now, and all Prorok could do was pray that he manages to live at least until they reach the Balmera. What exactly they would do there he did not know. 

Time passed slowly. Unable to check if the autopilot was working correctly and monitor Thace’s state, Prorok languished with uncertainty. He tried talking, but received no answer - even the burbling stopped, and it made the wait even more torturous. Prorok listened to Thace’s uneven, shaky breath for some more, then felt where manual controls around his chair were. Hakor was right - it was his fault that Voltron had not been apprehended. But maybe not everything was lost yet? There were Alteans on the Balmera now, exchanging energy with the beast. If Thace would die before they land, then Prorok would crash the jet into the surface. The hurt Balmera could then start writhing and would hopefully kill everyone on its surface. Then Prorok would cross to the other side together with his lover and accompanied by as many foes as he would be able to take with him. He felt lightheaded again, but struggled not to lose consciousness no matter what.

As time passed, he slowly sank into a weakness-induced semi-dream. He saw Thace, healthy and energetic, raising his head from his papers and smiling at him. Seeing this witty smile with sharp mouth corners, those high cheekbones and cheerful, high-set ears made Prorok moan with desire to steal a kiss, but Thace vanished faster than Prorok could do anything. He then saw his mother, also smiling at him, hanging clothes outside for drying. Prok, his academy buddy, was giggling mischievously, having smuggled berry liquor into the barracks. Prorok wanted to call out for him, but remembered that he had died many decaphoebs ago: got locked out of his pod on his very first assignment and froze to death. The accident was never properly investigated. Thag swirled her spear, ducked left and right from his attacks, enjoying her prowess and a chance to show it off. This was before, when she still wore her hair long. 

At times, Prorok managed to pull himself out of the haze - then he would turn his head around, call Thace’s name, move his hands to double-check if he could reach the controls, but he inevitably sank back mere ticks later. The dream became more and more realistic, he saw his friends, his ex-lovers, family - everyone alive and happy, only to get back to his senses mere ticks later and understand that they were all dead.

At last, a wave flushed over Prorok, washing the mirages away. It sent painful goosebumps along his whole body and echoed as even bigger pain in the back of his head. The numb tips of his fingers exploded with sensations - tickling, heat, pain at the same time. Prorok tried to breathe in and failed - just like when they were pulling him out of the Ro-Beast. His chest didn’t move at his frantic attempts to inhale, he once again lost control over his muscles. The only difference was that this time, it ended much faster. Prorok barely had time to be afraid - the wave washed over him and left him lying at the floor (how did he get out of the seat?), coughing and shaking, squinting in attempts to understand what happened. Someone moved at his side, Prorok jerked, ready to fight off the intruder, but it was Thace, bent down over him from his chair. Thace’s blood-smeared face hung over him, Thace’s weak, shaking fingers were touching his cheek.

“Prorok, is it you? What happened? Where are we?… No, wake up, please, what happened, my love, please be okay...”

Prorok passed out.


End file.
